The Other Box
by Elliot Bowers
Summary: A dark and frenzied tale... Dr. Nova's most dangerous experiment opens the way to an alternate Scrap Iron City.
1. A Dark Discovery

The Other Box (by Elliot Bowers)   
  
Chapter 1: Dark Discovery  
  
_____"Ha ha hah..." The metaphysicist laughed to himself as he looked over the   
notes in his notebook, which was set on the somewhat cracked formica table.   
The formica table was in the middle of this room--a bare and poorly lit place.  
_____This was a temporary lab, only illuminated by the single flourescent   
light on the damaged ceiling. This scientist had to clear junk, trash and   
human bones from here to make it passably clean enough for today's work.   
He would have had his two bodyguards do the labor for him; some of the   
metal junk in here was too heavy to remove. But, in the end, the labor was   
worth it. This was an excellent place for hidden activities.  
_____And...! There was good reason for him doing today's scientific operations   
in secret: What he was doing in this room could be so destabilizing and dangerous   
that there would surely be laws instantly invented-just to ban what he was doing   
now. Laws, made by the holy mega-computer in the floating City of Zalem. Laws,   
which were enforced by metal-bodied professional killers down in Scrap Iron   
City. The professional killers seemed to like killing, really....  
_____And then, for once in his life, this professionally dressed madman felt   
something that truly overpowered his hunger for sweet, tasty flan. These were   
odd, troubling stirrings that he felt ever since he accidentally came across   
something new in his metaphysical experiments.   
_____But, the madman did not LOOK like someone dangerous; he did not look like   
a man capable of destruction. He was but a man of very modest physical build--  
physically frail. And his hair was graying, swept back owlishly at the sides,   
and his face was well-lined. A look of age and experience. Not strong of body,   
but quite strong of mind.   
_____Strength of mind was key because the madman, Dr. Desty Nova, was a   
scientist. An expatriat of Zalem, he was a topmost scientist of nanotechnology  
and metaphysics. THIS was why he was dangerous; the man experimented with the   
fabric of reality itself. The only reason why a price wasn't placed on his   
head was because few people could understand the depths of his work. Any   
minute, any second, someone would come for him. Or, more exactly, come for   
his head.   
_____Dr. Nova put those thoughts out of his head--so to speak. After today's   
tasks, he would be long-gone from this room... On the run. Off to run to some  
other God-forsaken hideway. Then again, most all of Scrap Iron City was God-  
forsaken: a darkened city of jumbled industrial buildings in which the   
impoverished masses of people--humans and cyborgs--worked their slow and   
broken lives away. Life here really stomped people down to nothing; life was  
a misery either cut short by violence or prolonged by cyborg technology.  
_____Poverty, pollution, pain... All of that in this ultra-industrialized   
mega-city: A city that looked like a bastardized cross between an oversized   
shantytown and an industrial complex--a city that was thousands and thousands  
of miles square.   
_____This city was a darkened and ruined land. This was a city which was   
toxic to body and spirit. THIS was where Dr. Nova lived.  
...  
_____Ah well... Doctor Nova did not care for that In fact, in the midst of   
his latest experiment, he did not even care for flan! That, though an   
ever-so-slight sense of dizziness made him almost hesitate his current work.  
_____His work, which was being done in this temporary lab, had to continue!   
"Ha hah hah..." he went, a somewhat hollow laugh. The laugh was more to   
alleviate his "something-is-wrong" feeling...   
_____Going over a few more lines of notes done up scientific notation and   
technical phrasing, he took a small object out of his left pocket and set it   
on the formica tabletop. Despite the low florescent lighting in this room,   
the small object was clearly visible.   
_____It was a little box. One that seemed to be made of blue-painted wood.   
That is, for now, it was a little box; it could turn into anything else at any   
time.   
_____He now picked it up in both hands. And he was suddenly surprised with   
what the box did next. Almost dropped the thing! Amazing! Astounding!   
Impossible!  
_____He just saw the box CHANGE itself. Before, it was just a plain hollow  
cube. Now there was a little handle atop the little box. A handle just big   
enough that one could pull on it by pinching with two fingers....   
_____"Ha hah hah...! Whoops!" He clamped a hand over his own mouth to   
stifle his own laughter. Well now, he didn't want anyone to hear him! Being   
killed now would be a major inconvenience to his work.   
_____And then there was the sound of the door SLAMMING open. "WHAT!" shouted   
the lab-coated metaphysicist, spinning himself around to look at who the   
intruder was!   
_____But...there was no one there! No one at all! He DID hear the door slam   
open. Or, did he? The door was still closed. But he was SURE he heard it   
SLAM open, as if someone kicked his or her way in.  
_____He crossed the cracked floor and went over to the door. He touched the  
rusty surface with his left hand. The door was definitely still closed...   
He was hearing things! Yes, yes, that's it!  
_____"The door did NOT open..." muttered Dr. Nova. "I did not not REALLY   
hear it open."   
_____He turned and went back to the table--notebook and mystery box on it.  
Back to the task at hand...!   
....  
_____Back at the table, he picked up the box. He set his left thumb and   
forefinger on the little handle, then flinched when noises began exploding   
in this room! Like sounds of Hellish jackhammers slamming against the walls  
and the doors!  
_____BANG, BANG, BANG...! SLAM-SLAM-SLAM...! BANGING and SLAMMING sounds   
were coming from behind the walls. Something was BANGING at the door.   
_____So LOUD! These were sounds so loud that Dr. Nova had to put the box   
down on the cracked formica table as so he could cover his ears. It sounded   
as if someone or something wanted to get into this room from behind the   
walls--or from inside the walls.   
_____"HA-HAH!" went Dr. Nova. "I AM NOT HEARING THAT AT ALL!" he shouted, his   
voice drowned out by the lound banging sounds! "THIS IS NOT HAPPENING! THE  
NOISE IS ALL IN MY HEAD!"   
____As if in response to Dr. Nova's denial, the noises picked up! In fact,   
this scientist saw the tabletop shake from the loudness. BANG-BANG-BANG!  
Such maddeningly loud noise! "THIS IS NOT HAPPENING AT ALL!"   
_____And then it stopped.... No more loudness. There was no more sound of   
imaginary Hellish fists banging on the walls. Was he becoming more insane than   
he already was?  
_____"Hah hah, it must have been hallucination. Ha hah hah..." chuckled the   
lab-coated metaphysicist. If the sounds had been real, then the makers of the   
sound would not have stopped when he shouted: his voice was not loud enough to   
have been heard above the racket.   
_____His eyes widened when he looked at the box again, which changed again!   
"AMAZING!" he shouted, then winced--mentally chiding himself for being so loud.   
He had forgotten to be quiet. Someone could overhear him, and that would NOT   
be a halucination. But this latest development confirmed one of his earlier   
suspicions.   
_____Again, back to work. Since the noises, the box had undergone another   
change: It had changed its size and color; now it was larger. Before, it   
was small enough to fit in his left pocket. Now it was large enough to hold   
a human head, and its paint became as red as blood.  
_____Dr. Nova reached for a pen and stooped over to write these latest changes   
down in the notebook: "Change in physical properties--growth in size, new   
red color." SLAM!   
_____"Hmmph! Hallucinations, nothing more..." he went, still writing. Maybe,   
the box was able to affect his sanity. After all, he knew almost nothing about  
its properties. Later, he should analyze the box's unexplained ability to   
amplify paranoia--to the point of inducing auditory hallucinations.   
_____He only paused in his note-taking when he heard footsteps. Footsteps,   
coming towards him from behind. "Hmm hmm hmm... Yet more halucinations," he  
said aloud. "Am I supposed to care? Maybe, or maybe not?"  
_____"A halucination?" went a voice--the voice of a young and serious girl.   
"Or, are we yet all nothing but halucinations in this prolonged dream called   
life?" The voice darkened. "However, if you are my target, then your dream   
will soon awaken due to the REALITY of my blade!"  
_____Dr. Nova chose to not stand and turn around just yet. Because, if he did,  
the female bounty hunter behind him would get a clear look at his face and   
height. Then she would kill him straight off, probably with great pleasure:  
murderously sadistic pleasure. Bounty hunters, all of them sadists!  
_____And suddenly, somehow, he KNEW the bounty hunter's name. Though he never   
met her before, never knew the sound of her voice before, he knew her. Or,   
maybe he just BELIEVED he was familiar with the stranger behind him--another   
psychosomatic side-effect of exposure to the box?  
_____Yes, THE box! Its properties were mysterious. Just perhaps, it had given   
him some psychic ability? Considering how THE box was made, and what he knew of   
it, such was very possible. That, and THE box was capable of much more.  
_____Still without turning around, he some how KNEW how this intruder looked--  
a bounty hunter. The female did not look like a bounty hunter. The dark-eyed   
and pretty-faced girl was just under five feet tall, petite--her lithe body   
clad in a tight sleeveless bodysuit the color of midnight. Dark, to match her   
shimmering black-silken hair and large night-colored eyes. But the term "girl"   
did not fully fit her, because the "girl" wasn't fully human.  
_____She was a cyborg. Her shoulder-length dark hair was silken polymer, and  
her pretty faace was synthetic flesh... Her lithe body was, in truth, sculpted   
metal machinery. She was a metal-bodied doll of a peron, one with murderous   
capabilities.   
_____A simple blade in hand, this petite and pretty killer was now behind   
Dr. Nova. Maybe tonight would be inconvenient...because he could die here.  
_____"May I ask you some things?" asked Dr. Nova, pen still paused on the   
notebook page. "That is, if would let me. I want to talk..." He smacked   
his lips. "And why do I sudddenly have a stronger hunger for flan? Mmm...flan...   
Did you, by any chance, bring any?"  
_____"BE SILENT! DO NOT ATTEMPT VERBAL TRICKERY WITH ME!" shouted the petite   
professional killer. "I am but milliseconds from severing your gray-haired   
head from your body! How is THAT for flan?"  
_____"Hmm... I should have flan in this box..." said Dr. Nova, smiling. "Or,  
I could have a very illegal gun in there. Which do you think...GALLY?"   
_____"I choose this way," she said, taking steps towards the scientist. "I  
choose to complete tonight's business now." And she smiled...   
_____Dr. Nova gagged when Gally's blade pierced his back. Well, THIS was   
certainly inconvenient! How was he to continue his work? He tried to say  
something, but instead vomited a gush of blood.   
_____Not that he noticed, but the blade was taken out of his back. The petite  
cyborg-girl stood back, blood dripping on the blade. She watched and waited   
for the man to die, watched him stagger about drunkenly.  
_____Then he reached for the box! As he began falling over, he reached out  
and KNOCKED it off of the formica table. It hit the cracked and gritty floor,   
then opened. And everything went wrong!  
_____Darkness... There was darkness in that box. The cyborg-girl tried to  
turn and run, but the darkness closed over her. And she felt herself tumbling.  
The floor was gone! Falling, she looked up... No ceiling! There was nothing   
here but the sound of wind as she fell and fell into darkness.  
...  
_____It was a troubling, sickening sort of darkness. There was a sense of  
being twisted and spun around, swirling fear and pain. Gally screamed--but   
her scream was snatched away by the air. She was falling so fast now that   
the air snatched her voice away. She screamed again.  
_____It was another futile scream. Another scream that went nowhere. She   
thought that no one heard her scream. But then, someone screamed back: the  
scientist she just knifed!   
_____The bastard, he was STILL ALIVE! But she thought that she KILLED him.  
The blade peirced his body, cutting the heart and left lung. How the HELL did  
Dr. Nova still have strength enough to SCREAM? Just as Gally thought about   
how she would try killing Dr. Nova again, she HIT something--and she went   
unconscious.  
...  
_____The sidewalk was hard under Gally's body. But her metal body was harder.  
She opened her bleary eyes, feeling too dizzy to stand. Dr. Nova probably had   
a drugged gas in that box--a gas that somehow made it through her artificial   
respitory system and into her brain. He DID play at trickery!  
_____Gally's employer had put a reward of 666,000 credits for Nova's head. He   
was listed as being "very, very dangerous," and she wanted to take his head.   
But, it was not about the money. It was never about the money. It was about   
the challenge, which piqued her curiousity; she never before saw a criminal   
listing that read as "very, very dangerous." She simply HAD to take the   
bounty.  
_____And she WOULD find him. With that resolve, her dizzy headache went away,   
and she was able to see clearly and get up. Standing on her boot-clad feet, the   
armor-bodied female was able look around at the night-time urban surroundings.  
_____Looking around, it was a scene lit by streetlamps and lights shining from  
windows... This street was one in a decaying neighborhood--a neighborhood of   
run-down buildings alongside dirt-lots populated by trailers. Some scraps   
of trash was blown by the night breeze, blown along the street. The streetlamps  
only made for light enough for the streets, so the people outside made for   
their own illumination.   
_____There were plenty of people out here--sitting outside the buildings.   
Nearby, the dirt-lot with trailers bustled with life: talk and campfires,   
accompanied by sounds of radios and televisions. Some other groups of people   
had barrels of fire--full of burning wood and newspaper. A few groups even   
had televisions propped up on old crates, showing various silly shows. The   
campfires made things somewhat smoky here, but comfortable and not too loud.  
The setting was made a bit more festive as people over there had strung some   
jury-rigged in places with taped-together electrical cords.   
_____Gally looked at that nearby vacant lot. Since the people there seemed   
more talkative, even slightly festive, Gally walked over. With practiced   
habit, she stepped around and avoided tripping over the scattered chunks of   
junk here, which was here on the packed-dirt ground.   
...  
_____Going into the vacant lot, she approached a group of three people who sat   
around one of the barrels of fire here, sitting on crates of wood. One of them   
was a thin-looking and dapperly dressed old man--buttoned white shirt with   
slacks, and suspenders. He stared into the fire, reflected flames in his eyes.   
The two others here were the opposite of the old man: two young, tough-looking   
teenage boys in leather jacket and jeans. Together, all three stared into the   
fire.  
_____"Please pardon my interruption into your meditations..." began Gally, "but,   
have any of you seen a scientist pass through? He has swept-back gray hair, was   
wearing a multi-pocketed lab coat. His breath smells of flan."   
_____The Kindly Old Man slowly turned his head to face Gally, then put out   
wheezing breaths. "Hah-h-h... Hah-h-h... Hah-h-h..." he went, huffing and   
puffing. Gally feared the Kindly Old Man would keel over from respiratory   
illness, but he eventually managed to speak. "You want to find HIM? But...who   
will find YOU? Where do you FIND YOURSELF? CAN you find YOURSELF in THIS OTHER   
CITY?"  
_____"Can I be found?" asked Gally, speaking metaphorically. "I find myself   
through confronting challenges and defeating them. I live through fighting."   
She shook her head. "Now, for the task at hand. I seek a labcoat-wearing   
fugitive--one name Dr. Nova. A fully human man of moderate age and troubled   
appearance. Did he pass by here?"  
_____"Hah-h-h..." wheezed the Kindly Old Man. "Dr. Nova passed through, indeed!   
He passed through...THE breeze!" With that, there was a blast of wind that   
made the campfire ripple. And the Kindly Old Man vanished!  
_____There were still two other men seated at this fire, both of them as   
surprised as Gally was--seeing that old man vanishing the way he did. Like...   
Like magic!  
_____"Oh SHIT! You were right, Zackus! It WAS him!" said the one on the   
right. "He vanished like fuckin' MAGIC! Guess I owe you twenty creds next   
trip to our bank. And I don't mean the body bank!"  
_____The bank? Gally did not know what that was. Ignoring that odd reference,  
she addressed the two teens. "Have either of you two seen the fugitive I   
previously described? A tall, well-dressed man in a labcoat--wearing a tie   
and with a hairstyle swept back at the sides?"   
_____The one on the left shrugged. "I dunno, doll... Not too many of those   
types come around here. Try going downtown... All sorts of scientist-looking   
people in some of the buildings there." He leaned forward on the crate he  
was sitting on. "Anyway, aren't you a little bit too young to go hunting   
criminals? Take my advice, little girl. Why don't you leave that to the   
Metro Cops?"  
_____The one on the right added, "Stuff that! Don't help those kevlar-armored  
bastards! Out here in the Fringes, we're all people. If that 'Dr. Nova'   
wants to hide out here, I'd let him. Especially if he's hiding from creepy  
little girls done up in sexy body armor!"  
_____She ignored that comment about her metal physique. But, what odd terms...   
Metro Cops? The Fringes? These were terms Gally never heard before. And   
these two street-teens had odd accents she could not identify.   
_____Then she began noticing other odd things. Little things. Like, how the  
air smelled just a bit different--without the ever-so-slight ozone smell that   
she was used to smelling. Looking around in this scrubby urban lot, she also   
saw that all of those here seemed fully human; she was the only cyborg here.   
Then she looked up at the sky...  
_____There was a full moon up, but Zalem was not. There was no massive,   
floating circular City of Zalem in the sky at all. In fact, the sky had no   
floating city at all.   
_____"This is not Scrap Iron City," she said. The two street-teenagers   
laughed... "This is NOT Scrap Iron City!" she said again, more troubled. "But,   
how did this come to pass?" And the two street-teens sitting by the barrel of   
fire just kept laughing and laughing... They thought the metal-bodied little   
girl was nuts.  
_____"Hey doll. You're lost and sound just a little bit crazy. Did you take   
a hit on the head?" said the street-teen on the right. "Why don't you go back   
into the city proper and find yourself a cop? Yeah, your mommy is probably   
worrying herself sick."  
_____Someone else broke into the conversation, a male voice. "Her m-m-mommy?   
Someone can't get good help these days-days-days?" continued the voice,   
studdering some words. "Hey, we could all use a little HELP. I'd help-help-  
help, if I c-c-could!"   
_____Gally turned in the direction of the third voice, the glitching voice.   
Looking around... She saw no one looking in her direction. But there was a   
television pointed in her direction.  
_____The voice had come from a television atop an upside-down metal barrel, a   
television showing a close-up of a square-jawed blonde. Walking closer, Gally   
saw that the man on the screen was not real; he had the plain-shaded look of   
an early computer-generated image. So the 'stuttering' Gally heard was actually   
faulty audio dubbing.   
_____"A mere television show," she said aloud. "And, a poorly programmed one at   
that. A television broadcast made to look as if it speaks to people."  
_____"Just a tele-tele-TELEVISION show?" asked the man in the televison.  
"Hey! Looks like your putting on a better sh-sh-show than I am! What's  
the name of YOUR sitcom, huh-huh-huh? 'Little Dark Riding Girl'? Geez, I try   
to help, and I get in-in-insults! No good deed goes unpunished!"  
_____Gally approached the television, glanced at another television nearby.   
None of them had the man on them. "Then, this is a two-way communication   
device?" she asked. "How did you come to know where I was, and how did you  
know I required assistance? Also, who are the 'Metro Cops'?"   
_____The computer-generated man in the television sighed. "So-so-so many   
quest-quest-questions from a stranger! Now, I'll give you answers. One, I just   
happened to be in th-th-the neighborhood when I heard that you needed help from   
the police. Two, the Metro Cops are the POLICE. Th-th-those are your answers,   
in that order."  
_____This was all becoming more odd and troubling by the moment. Not only did   
Dr. Nova evade Gally, but he must have also had her transported to a completely   
different city. A city with "police" instead of bounty hunters. A city that   
seemed immensely far from Zalem. This was all so strange.  
_____"Where do I find this 'police?'" asked Gally. "If they are who I believe  
them to be, and if I correctly recall what was said to me, then they should  
be able to assist me in my search of my bounty."  
_____"You want to find a few Metro Cops, h-h-HMM?" went the man in the   
television. He disappeared for a second, and Gally saw a few seconds of a   
violent television show-- a man shooting a big gun at big trucks, blowing them   
up.   
_____Then the man in the television returned. "My dear," he began, "you are in   
LUCK today, even if one of the Metro Cops isn't-isn't-isn't! Now, are you sure   
you want to find the police?"  
_____"Yes, I do wish to find this 'police,' as I said!" she said. "Where will  
I find them?"   
_____"Okey-dokey!" he answered. "Just go back to the street and go left. At   
the intersection, you w-w-WILL find a Metro Cop. Gee-gee-GEEZ... I just hope   
there's enough of him left by the time you get there!"  
_____Gally smiled. A challenge! She dashed away from the man in the television  
and to the street.   
...  
_____Turning left on the sidewalk, she ran... Indeed, a block away, in the   
light of a streetlamp, two people fought. One was a man in bulky pad-like   
kevlar and black face-covering helmet. The other was thin and much taller.  
The man in bulky kevlar continued to punch and kick at the tall man, but the  
tall man simply absorbed the blows--before punching the kevlar-wearing man   
in the chest.  
_____The one in the bulky kevlar and full helmet was losing... Blows to his  
chest and head made him stagger. He must be the Metro Cop. Gally approached   
in a hurry, seeing the Metro Cop stagger from a hit on the head by the tall   
bald man.  
_____Closer, she saw the condition of the other fighter. The Metro Cop in   
kevlar was protected from impact wounds. But the tall bald one without   
armor should have been dead: over a dozen bleeding bullet holes in his chest,   
and dark blood dribbling from his mouth.  
_____Also nearby were two other Metro Cops, in the same uniform as the one  
fighting the tall bald man. Those two were on their backs, their arms and   
legs splayed. Guns in hands, they must have also tried to subdue the tall  
bald man.  
_____Clearly, gunshots did not kill the tall bald man. Then, there was no   
choice but for Gally to engage the enemy and defeat him--before that remaining  
Metro Cop was beaten to death.   
...  
_____She moved like a dark wind from nearby, the slight sound of her feet   
lightly and rapidly pattering. A leap in the air, and...  
_____THUNK! As the cyborg-girl leapt past the tall bald-headed man, her fist   
struck his jaw. The enemy staggered, his pulverized jaw suddenly as flabby as   
flan. But still, he stood. Still stood...  
_____Gally landed, skidded to a stop on the dark street. She turned and looked.  
The tall bald-headed man still stood, but her titanium-fisted blow should have  
nearly decapitated him. How was it that he still stood? How...?  
_____The officer who was being attacked now spoke. "Nice try, girl. Get out  
of here before this freak gets you, too." The tall bald man stepped closer to   
the injured policeman. "Go away!" He said that to Gally, not to the threat   
here.  
_____Gally would not run from this interesting challenge. She would defeat  
this new and strange type of opponent. Perhaps, this was Nova's work?   
_____"I shall not flee!" she shouted, grinning. And she herself began to   
approach the tall bald man, bullet holes in his chest and obliterated jaw.   
She saw the tall bald man smiled a lopsided, distorted smile--oddly dark blood   
coming from his lips.  
_____Something was not quite right about the color of the tall bald man's   
blood. SWISH...! Gally had to duck just as she had that thought; the tall   
bald man had taken a swift swipe at her head.   
_____But she was not fast enough to evade the following kick. She saw the   
left foot coming at her head. Though she raised her forearms to block the   
blow, there was still enough force from the attack to give her a knock on the   
left cheek.   
_____She had to think about this opponent; he was not to be underestimated. Not   
only did his endurance exceed that of an ordinary human being, but his attacks   
were quite swift.   
_____A tall, swift opponent. Such an opponent could easily be defeated with  
the right tactics. Namely, because the tall bald man relied on agility and   
speed, a loss of that agility would put him at a severe disadvantage.  
_____So Gally acted appropriately. She lashed out with her left leg, and   
there was a meaty crack of a leg-bone being broken. The tall bald man began to   
fall like a tall tree cut by an axe, threatening to fall down on the petite   
cyborg.   
_____Instead of evading, Gally did a quick step forward. Her right fist shot   
straight up. And the moment seemed to freeze.  
_____A crunch of sternum-bone breaking, and her fist was inside the chest of the  
tall man--caught in mid-fall. His mouth and eyes were open in surprise. Gally   
was below: kneeling, grinning.  
_____She stepped quickly to the side, quickly pulling her fist from the man's  
chest--making for a wet slurping sound. Her victim fell to the cracked street,   
lit by the nearby streetlamp. That unusually dark blood formed a puddle around   
the dead man's chest. This battle was done.  
...  
_____"Good job, kid," said the officer in bulky black kevlar. He moved--  
slightly staggered--over to where the corpse lie in the light. "Damn, and to   
think that bullets didn't down him!"   
_____Gally waved her right hand about a bit to get some of the blood off of  
the metal. Then she stared at it... "This is not ordinary blood," she said.   
"It is more viscuous upon immediate exposure to air. Just perhaps, I presume   
this enemy to be a mutant."  
_____"Mutants...? We haven't had those yet, but the corporations always have  
new things brewing in their research labs..." said the officer. He looked away   
from the corpse. "Could you keep an eye on that freak while I check my   
partners?" And he walked over to the two officers who were unconscious all this   
time.  
_____Gally did. She went closer to the still body of the tall bald man--whose   
corpse bled absolutely dark blood. And she was sure it was not a trick of the  
streetlighting; that blood was as dark as old-fashioned petroleum-oil--but   
more slick and thick.   
_____It had to be a mutant of sorts, but even mutated human beings went down  
after being shot. Gally wanted to ask the officer about what he knew of this,  
but he was chattering something into his small walkie-talkie and looking over   
the injuries of his unconscious comrades-in-arms.  
_____And then, bystanders came. They stood on the darker sidewalks and at the  
intersection, looking at the scene. Some of them mumbled to each other about  
how someone dared to attack Metro Cops. Others commented on the little girl's  
form-fitting armor--and wondered what she was doing here. They wondered if the   
Metro Cops were now promoting kids into their ranks.   
...  
_____But the bystanders could not speculate for too long. In minutes, plenty  
of backup and other officers came to this scene--essentially, a cleanup crew.   
As Gally and the first officer stood by, the officer with his helmet off, the   
tall corpse was dumped in a gray truck. The injured officers were put on   
stretchers and lifted into ambulances. Plenty other kevlar-clad Metro Cops   
walked around the scene, using digital cameras to photograph the dark blood   
pattern and small test-tubes to collect samples.  
_____A male detective approached, one in black trenchcoat worn over dapper  
clothes. "Hello, Murphy," he said. "Rough night... Impossibly rough, it   
looks like. Damn, the perpetrator injured multiple cops!"  
_____Gally looked up at the Metro Cop whom she helped save. "You are Murphy?"   
she asked. "It is an interesting name. In fact, we have failed to exchange   
names..."   
_____The Metro Cop here smiled, chuckled. "Hah hah... You're right." He   
held out his heavily gloved right hand to the small lithe cyborg. "I'm John   
Murphy--Metro Cop. And you are...?"  
_____Somewhat familiar with this hand-shaking custom, Gally put her right hand   
in Murphy's. "I am Gally, a bounty hunter of Scrap Iron City. Yet, I take   
into my profession more for challenge than crass gains." Then Murphy released  
Gally's hand.  
_____Detective Walthers spoke up. "Bounty hunter, huh? Didn't know there   
were any bounty hunters in this town. Did you, Murphy?"   
_____"Well, I'm just glad there was at least this one close by," responded the   
kevlar-clad Metro Cop. "If it weren't for her, I'd be on the ground with   
Jimbo and Samuk there... And we'd all probably be dead."   
_____Detective Walthers looked more carefully at Gally. "That body armor of   
yours looks pretty impressive, kid. Though I don't know why you have to wear   
that gymnastic bodysuit over it. Is the armor experimental or something?"  
_____"This armor IS my body, detective," said Gally, her expression saddening.   
"All of my pysique consists of synthetics, electronics and machinery. My face   
and hair are also synthetic. Yet my brain is real. At least, I continue to   
believe so. Do you have too many questions to ask of me? Do you question my   
HUMANITY?"  
_____"Whoa... Whoa..." went Detective Walthers, raising his hands. "You're a   
CYBORG? I didn't know your kind really existed! Corporate guys come up with   
new medical technology all the time. I just didn't know that they could make   
people into cyborgs yet. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.   
Your body is your own business."  
_____Murphy gently laid a hand on Gally's solid left shoulder. "Well, she saved  
my life. She probably saved plenty other lives tonight, too, stopping that   
freak the way she did."  
_____Detective Walthers opened his black trenchcoat and put his hands in his  
slacks pockets. "Yeah... You'll have to tell me about that. Murphy, you'll   
have to write up a report to the Chief and all, and maybe Gally here will have   
to add info to it. But could you, Gally, tell me a bit of something. Who the   
Hell convinced you to attack that freak?"   
_____"It was quite odd..." answered Gally. "A business-suited television man  
told me to move and help. Or rather, the 'man' was a computer-generated, three-  
dimensional image of a man."   
_____"You mean Max Headroom told you to help?" asked Detective Walthers. "Let   
me get this straight in my head. You just so happened to be in the   
neighborhood, and Headroom was here, too? He was here, just as Murphy was being   
attacked by that tall freak with the altered blood?"  
_____"I cannot quite answer for the patterns of chance and events," said Gally.  
"My own purpose in life is that of growth and improvement. That, done through  
physical conflict. Yet, who is this Mr. Headroom?"  
_____"Oh, you'll find out, Gally," chuckled Murphy as he looked around. The   
other Metro Cops were dispersing; they were nearly done. "Stay in this city   
long enough, and you'll find out plenty."  
_____Gally looked up at Officer Murphy. "I was also told that I could gain   
further information in meeting you. Currently, my target is a metaphysicist   
named Dr. Nova. And he has proven himself to be as dangerous as listed. Have  
you seen Dr. Nova?"  
_____"I don't know who or what you're talking about, Miss Bounty Hunter," said   
Detective Walthers. "Tell you what. Why don't you go down to the station   
with Murphy? You can exchange plenty of information there. And, maybe we   
can talk about helping you find this 'Nova' guy of yours."  
...  
_____Next stop was the police station to which Murphy was assigned--the 1st   
Precinct. And Gally was more than a little encouraged to come along. She rode  
with Murphy--in one of the plain black police cruisers with the white MC logo  
on the side. The ride gave Gally a longer view of this city--this different   
environment.   
_____She was seated in the shotgun seat, the right passenger side of this   
vehicle that Murphy drove. This car passed through many low-lit urban streets,  
brick buildings along the impoverished streets. It was similar to, but not   
exactly like, Scrap Iron City.   
_____There were plenty of questions she wanted to ask. What was the name of  
this city? How was it that those here thought that cyborg technology was   
still experimental? And, did anyone have the slightest hint as to where Dr.   
Nova was? But she best save those questions for arrival at the 1st Precinct.  
...  
_____In fact, the 1st Precinct was in the central downtown area--where the   
apartments and office buildings were taller, more sleek, and neater. At   
ground level, there were restaurants and shops--well-lit and well-kept. And   
the people out at this hour were all well-dressed.  
_____This police cruiser and several others pulled into the concrete slope   
that led to the basement of the 1st Precinct--a surprisingly old-fashioned  
looking, three-story building. It was one of the oldest, but also one of the  
best-maintained buildings.   
_____And it had to be the best-maintained building: the 1st Precinct was also   
the primary headquarters for all Metro Cop administrative functions. From here,  
all six police precincts were overseen. If anything required police attention,  
the personnel at 1st Precint also knew about it.  
....  
_____In the basement parking lot, there were many black police cruisers parked.   
With their own ride parked, Gally went with Murphy to the elevators at the far   
end. Other officers walked by, chatting among themselves. Another Metro Cop   
greeted Murphy when he stepped into the elevator. They talked about the latest   
incident...  
_____The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open. Up here was a large,   
florescent-lit room with plenty of wide desks on the beige marble floor. There   
must be about twenty desks here, and seven of them had helmetless Metro Cops   
seated at them. Though some of them were women, it was hard to tell as kevlar   
body armor gave everyone a uniform bulky look. Sounds of Metro Cops were on   
telephones and taking notes.  
_____"Okay, Gally," said Murphy. "This is pretty much where we Metro Cops   
make our homes when we're on duty. Let's go over to my desk..." He was going   
to put a hand on one of Gally's bare metal shoulders, but a glance from her   
told him not to do so.  
_____They went between desks, went over to a desk near the west end of this   
room. A folded metal chair leaned against it. Murphy unfolded it, set it   
in front of his desk. Gally sat, knees together and solid hands folded across  
her lap.   
_____Sitting behind the desk, Murphy looked around and took out a long notepad   
from a drawer. "Sorry about the chatter; this place always sounds busy..."  
He opened the notepad to a new page, wrote the day's date along the top line.  
"First, let's get some formalities out of the way. I have to get some basic  
questions. Your name is 'Gally.' Do you have a family name, or is that it?"   
Seconds passed, and there was no answer. "Is something wrong?"  
_____Gally blinked. She then spoke just loudly enough to be heard. "As far   
as I have a family name, it would be 'Daisuke.'" Voice and eyes lowering, she   
added, "Indeed, as far as I have anything valuable in this life..."   
_____As a Metro Cop, Murphy knew people. And he knew when not to pry. He   
therefore wrote "Daisuke, Gally" next to "Name" and rushed through the next  
few questions.  
_____Next to "Profession," Murhp wrote "Bounty Hunter," as with what Gally told   
him back at the crime scene. Chief Thunderhorse would probably want to ask   
about that...  
_____Murpy chose not to ask the cyborg-girl about her date of birth or city of   
origin. He instead just wrote question marks on those lines.   
_____He decided to move onto the more important questions, to begin writing the   
core of core of the report. "I know you answered this before, but this is for   
the record. How did you know that I needed assistance?"  
_____The petite cyborg's large dark eyes stared into Murphy's blue ones. "The   
one you call 'Max Headroom' informed me. He said to come to your aid at once,   
as you were in serious danger."   
_____Murphy quickly wrote out Gally's answer in shorthand. "And, you have no   
prior knowledge of the perpretrator, the one with the altered blood? You  
seemed pretty effective in eliminating him..."  
_____"I have never before encountered such an opponent," answered Gally. She  
saw Murphy write out two more sentences. "Though I have encountered multiple  
types of humanity--altered synthetically and genetically--that was the first  
opponent that bled dark blood."   
_____His right hand writing with practiced speed and precision, Murphy wrote   
that down as well. "One more question. Do you know anything about the 'Kindly   
Old Man' sightings? He seems to have been present at some of the more violent   
incidents in the past few days..." Gally gave a shake of her head: No.  
_____At that point, Murphy read once over the two brief paragraphs written,   
closed the notebook. Police Chief Thunderhorse or one of the lieutenants would   
read his report-log later, along with the other officers' report-logs.   
_____He then put the notebook away in the same drawer. "And that does it for   
the formal questioning... A lot faster than the policing procedures of the   
old days, before the War. Now, I know it's not much in terms of rewarding you  
for saving my life, but I will let you ask me any questions you want...so long   
as I can stay by this desk." And then the background chatter of this room   
went silent; the other officers at the other desks stopped what they were   
doing.  
_____Over at the north end of this large room, someone came in--someone in   
plain professional clothing: beige slacks, starched white shirt, and a silk  
tie. His skin was as swarthy as his polished brown shoes. A rugged, square-  
jawed sort of strong man, with crew-cut dark hair. He looked rich--and was   
rich. His outfit was complete with a badge pinned on the left side of his   
chest.   
_____"Everyone continue doing their business; I have no big announcements,"  
said the swarthy, strong-looking man. "Just business with Murphy and his   
savior." He then stood there as the officers indeed went back to doing what   
they were doing.   
_____Back over here at this desk, Murphy quickly explained. "Gally, that's  
Police Chief Thunderhorse. But he's almost never here after sunset... He's   
in charge of all policing in this city."  
_____And then Chief Thunderhorse came over here. Murphy stood up and away from   
his seat at this desk, offering the seat to the Chief. "Good evening, chief. I   
was just finishing an interview with the witness, about some trouble in the   
Fringes. What can I do for you, sir?"  
_____Chief Thunderhorse gave a nod of thanks to Murphy, then sat at this desk.  
He opened the top drawer where Murphy's report-log was stored, opened it to  
the latest entry--read it. Returned it to the drawer and closed it. Said,   
"Detective Walthers gave me a quick preliminary report on the latest incident...   
Very, very interesting." He looked at Gally. "So, you are the cyborg?"   
_____Gally looked down for a moment. When she looked up again, her eyes held   
just a bit of anger. "I tire of being repeatedly asked questions.... Do listen  
to me. Too many questions have been asked, and I have questions of my own.   
Is this the thanks given for assistance I have provided to YOUR subordinates?"   
She pulled in a breath. "I tracked down a bounty and came to where a newly   
declared fugitive was performing illegal experiments. Something happened, and   
I awakened on a sidewalk in this city. This city, different from my own home   
and...just foreign enough to intimidate."  
_____At Gally's outburst, the other Metro Cops at other desks paused. Some  
telephones rang. Who dared to speak to Chief Thunderhorse that way? Was  
someone becoming too violent in here?  
_____In the uncomfortable silence, Chief Thunderhorse laughed. It was a laugh   
that seeme to come of decades--if not centuries--of kind understanding.   
"Indeed, you have been asked many questions. Yet, I believe that you have many   
questions of your own. I cannot answer them all, but you may be able to find   
your own answers...if you know how to look.   
_____"As for compensation for your service," he continued, "let me give you a   
start on that. You are a bounty hunter--the only one in this city. Therefore,   
let me give you a financial reward... As Walthers could not find you on the   
city database, I believe that you do not have a credit rod. And because your   
form-fitting outfit lacks large pockets, I doubt that you carry the paper cash   
that is popular in the Fringes--the impoverished outskirts of this city."  
_____Indeed, Gally had none of that sort of money. As far as she knew, this  
city--whatever it was named--was quite far away from Scrap Iron City. Far from   
where she stored her stash of credit-chips. Then again, those of this city  
used different credits. In short, she was penniless here.   
_____Chief Thunderhorse reached into his left pocket and placed a short silvery   
cylinder down on the desk. It was two-and-a-half inches long and had a black   
ridged line near one end. It resembled a closed stick of lipstick   
_____"This is a basic cred-rod, one with a specific serial number," explained  
Chief Thunderhorse. "This electromechanically stores all of your monetary data.  
It is both a wallet and a bank account. Normally, we give basic credit-rods   
like this to cooperative deralicts who provide helpful information: each   
credit-rod starting with twenty credits. But as you were so very helpful, I   
gave you five hundred. And if you prove tobe more helpful, more monetary   
rewards will be forthcoming."  
_____"Sir, you're offering her a job?" asked Murphy. "I don't mean to question  
you, but we have almost no background information on her. What if she isn't   
strong enough to work at all with us?" Leaning closer to the chief, he said in   
a lower voice, "We don't even know what corporation succeded in making her a   
viable cyborg. The Zik Zak Corporation said something about experimenting with   
synthetic body replacement years ago, but that's all prototype-talk..."   
_____Chief Thunderhorse looked at Gally. Said aloud, "But I already know enough  
about Gally. She is strong. I can sense it. And she is certainly strong   
enough have been of assistance. Aren't you strong and capable, bounty hunter?"  
_____Gally looked at the small metal cylinder on the desk--Chief Thunderhorse's   
offer. By accepting the small credit-rod, she would be bound to cooperating   
with the Metro Cops. It meant that her pursuits would be somewhat limited; she   
would have to follow whatever regulations they imposed on her.   
_____But it was also a way of investigating this city. And through such   
investigation, she would find Dr. Nova. She looked to Murphy, then Chief   
Thunderhorse. The chief nodded to her, as if he knew her thoughts.   
_____"I accept," she said to Chief Thunderhorse and Officer Murphy. Extending   
her left hand to the silvery cylinder atop the desk, closing her solid fingers  
over the cylinder, Gally accepted the offer. She put it in a slit pocket at   
her left hip. She WOULD succeed in this challenge: finding Dr. Nova, then   
eliminating him.   
_____This, even if she never found her way back to Scrap Iron City to collect   
the bounty. It was never about the money; it never is about the money. Gally  
would find him, somewhere in this city.  
...  
_____Meanwhile, in the "Fringes" of this city, a few blocks from the vacant   
lot, someone unknown walked along a sidewalk. HE was not Dr. Nova, but HE was   
still a stranger to this city. Dressed in pressed slacks and white shirt with   
suspenders, he ambled past people sitting on front stoops... People stared and   
muttered, pointed in fear. It was HIM!  
_____HIM, the Kindly Old Man. Walking along, hands in his pocket. Though  
muggings, murders, and worse happened in these slums, no one dared approach  
the Kindly Old Man. Ever since he appeared three days ago, no one could even  
get close to him. Because he was very, very creepy.   
_____Right now, he had a smile on his face. Not a normal smile at all, in   
fact. The smile literally went from ear to ear--an abnormally wide smile.   
HE wasn't human, and that was all that anyone knew about HIM. A wind blew along  
this street, then he vanished. A chuckle in the breeze.... 


	2. Dark Bounty Hunter

The Other Box: Chapter 2 (by Elliot Bowers)   
...  
Dark Bounty Hunter  
...  
_____It was two hours before morning, and Gally seemed sleepy. She was still   
in the theater-sized main room, at the 1st Precinct--seated before Murphy's   
desk. The cyborg-girl's large eyes went half-lidded, sometimes closing.   
_____Chief Thunderhorse was way over at the far northern exit of the room. He   
saw Gally come close to falling asleep several times. Almost falling asleep,   
as she waited for Officer Murphy to return to the desk.   
_____But the police chief knew that there was more to Gally than just a pretty   
face and a gentle manner. She looked small and pretty, yet was dangerously   
sleek--her athletic form emphasized by the form-fitting black bodysuit she   
wore. Small, pretty, and dangerous...  
_____But that was not too unusual these days. In cities, children tend to   
mature quickly, mentally and physically. They must, because childhood was no   
longer a time of prolonged innocence... Hardened children of the city. But   
Gally looked hardened in the extreme.  
_____Where was Murphy? Officer Murphy was elsewhere in the station, completing   
some extra paperwork. He was trying to get around various city regulations to   
register Gally as "private detective" or something--because there was no place   
in the regulations for the profession of "bounty hunter," exactly...  
_____Still over at Murphy's desk, Gally still tried to keep awake and alert.   
She wondered why she felt so lethargic; the petite cyborg estimated that she   
was only awake for seventeen hours. As only her brain needed rest, she needed   
but a few hours of sleep per night.   
_____Or maybe, the process by which she came to this odd and nameless city had  
altered her sense of time, and she was actually awake longer. Another   
possibility was that the process had exhausted her brain. A third could be   
that her brain needed food, glucose. Another possibility could.... She came  
to that thought, then her large, dark eyes closed.  
...  
_____The next thing Gally knew, she was standing in a decrepit and bare room,   
poorly lit. In the gloom, she could see that the gray paint on the walls was  
peeling--revealing concrete beneath the paint. The ceiling of this room seemed   
to be painted black, the paint on the ceiling also peeling. And the floor was   
made of wooden planks. Wooden, like the door to the left.   
_____Hmm... Wood. There was something about the wood of the door, something  
she could not quite understand at the moment....   
_____There was a HOWLING of wind, and someone came into the room. Gally did   
not know how the person came into the room, because she did not see the   
wooden door open at all. The person, a very thin old man, was wearing slacks   
and buttoned white shirt with suspenders. It was the Kindly Old Man, the one   
Gally met in the vacant lot when she came to the city. Was she still in the  
city, or in some other place?  
_____"Hah-h-h..." wheezed the Kindly Old Man. "Look OUT, kid! Look to the   
left and right, because something is happening. Something, indeed! Hah-h-h...   
Hah-h-h-h..."  
_____Gibberish! The Kindly Old Man was speaking in gibberish. Gally tried   
to understand what that Kindly Old Man was talking about. Something is   
happening? WHAT was happening? But she could not ask him what he meant; she  
could not speak.   
______And he began to dance an odd, skipping dance in this dimly lit room.   
The material of his pressed slacks and white shirt swished and rippled as he  
swirled and hopped. His shoes clicked and clacked as he traipsed about. The  
Kindly Old Man wheezed as if coming close to death, but he never stopped   
dancing. Oh, how that Kindly Old Man danced!  
_____The Kindly Old Man wheezed and hopped once more, then he skipped right on   
over to the wooden door. His right hand on the doorknob, he opened it. And   
beyond the open door was absolute darkness. A darkness deeper than the   
universe. Gally wanted to scream!  
...  
_____Her eyes snapped open. That was a dream, just a dream! There was no   
dancing, wheezing "Kindly Old Man" here. And she was not in an old room with   
gray peeling paint, with a wooden plank floor. She now actually sitting in a   
swivel chair--a chair in a closed office. And the floor was marble floor.   
Before her was an expensive-looking, heavy wooden desk.   
_____It was quite an office here, in fact--private and well-furnished: a change   
from the large and impersonal main room of this police station. The walls here  
were polished and wood-paneled. And everything was well-lit.  
_____There were portraits on the walls--historical pictures of past police   
officers hung high up. They were pictures of how police officers dressed in   
the old days.  
_____Gally knew history. She knew that, somehow, this city kept alive the   
tradition of the "police"--public professionals who maintained law and safety   
for the public good. And, the pictures on the walls showed that tradition.   
The police in the pictures were men and women in uniforms, standing proud,   
looking out from the photographs. One of the photographs had a red-and-white   
striped flag, one with stars in a corner.   
_____Looking at the police in the photographs, Gally saw goodness and honesty.   
She somewhat wished that Scrap Iron City had good people like that to keep   
everyone safe when they slept...  
_____"The old days are gone," said someone behind Gally. Startled, she suddenly   
snapped up from her seat and turned around. It was Police Chief Thunderhorse.  
_____The dapperly dressed, tan-skinned police chief was standing next to the   
open door, a brown paper bag in his right hand. "And the old days will   
probably never return again," he added. "Sit down and relax."   
_____Gally sat down. And her large dark eyes followed Chief Thunderhorse   
as he moved over to his desk here and he himself sat down. He raised the brown   
paper bag. "I brought along a little something for your breakfast. At least,   
something I believe you metal-bodied beings can eat. And please sit down. Be   
at ease. It is 0630. You have a new day ahead."   
_____Gally sat down. "I slept here, through the night?" she asked. "It was   
not my intention to occupy your station as a place of rest. I could have slept   
well on..."  
_____"...On the streets?" interrupted Chief Thunderhorse. "Or in an alley,   
next to a dumpster?" He pushed the paper bag across the desktop, to Gally.   
She stared at the police chief before taking the bag.   
_____"Little girl, if you would have slept in the streets, without knowing   
places are safest, you could have been taken to a body bank or some black-  
market tech market--never to wake up alive." He shook his head. "You are new   
to this city, and do not know where it is safe." He gestured toward Gally.   
"Now, please do eat."  
_____Opening the paper bag, Gally saw six plastic-wrapped bars of various types.   
Some were chocolate. Others were labeled as being "high in carbohydrates" and  
"zero waste."   
_____"Those are zero-waste food bars, made by the Zik Zak corporation," said   
Chief Thunderhorse. "Eat those, and you'd get eight hours of energy and   
nutrition... Better yet, the food bars are treated with complicated catalysts   
as so they are completely digested. You don't have to use the toilet after   
eating them. They are somewhat expensive to those who earn average wages,   
but popular among network executives." He smiled. "I never really met a   
metal-bodied little girl before, or any sort of cyborg, so I did not know what   
else to buy you. I did not know if you can defecate normally. At least with   
those bars, you need not worry about that."  
_____"I thank you..." said Gally. Her metal fingers dipped into the bag, went   
for one of the food bars first. She unwrapped it, bit into it. Very tasty.  
It tasted slightly like cinnamon-flavored granola.  
_____"Good, at least you eat like a human being," said Chief Thunderhorse.   
"Some around here thought that you had to be plugged in or had to be gassed up  
like a car. I thought otherwise..." He leaned back in his comfortable seat.   
"Care to hear about today's business now, or later?"   
_____Finishing the food bar without any stains on her cheeks or lips, Gally   
answered. "Yes, I would like to hear it now. That, as so I may think ahead.   
Whatever there is planned, I would like to continue pursuing my target while   
I remain in this city."  
_____"Do not worry," answered the police chief, sitting up and moving his   
comfortable seat closer to the wooden desk. "What I have planned should help   
you find whomever you seek. How so? Because, today's activities will increase  
your familiarity with this city."  
_____Midway through another food bar, Gally swallowed. Said, "You are correct.  
What, by the way, is the name of this...city? No one has said its name, and I  
saw no logos or titles..."   
_____Thunderhorse shrugged. "That is of no matter. But now, to the point.   
Today, I would like for you to go on patrol with a detachment of Metro Officers.  
Do so, and I will reward you with more credits. Also, going on patrol may   
give you clues--information--on the whereabouts of your target. I cannot issue   
you a firearm, a gun, but you are permitted to use deadly force in assistance of  
Metro Cop policing. Do you agree to helping patrol?"  
_____Nearly done with her meal of food bars, Gally quickly thought over her   
options. It was still true that she lacked familiarity with this city, a city   
that was similar to--but still different from--Scrap Iron City. Being ignorant   
of this city's ways, she could encounter some sort of danger that others of   
this city knew--and not know how to deal with it.   
_____She finished eating another food bar... "I agree to your offer, Police   
Chief Thunderhorse. I agree, in order to gain more information. May I at   
least see a map of this city?"  
...  
_____Elsewhere in the downtown core of this city, there were some buildings   
that were taller--much taller than other structures. As the morning sun shone   
down, these taller glassy skyscrapers glinted against the blue and cloud-mottled   
sky high overhead. These skyscrapers were homes to television networks and   
other technological-development industries.   
_____One such towering skyscraper belonged to Network 66, one of the most  
powerful computer software and entertainment networks in the city. It was   
located near the west side of the city's downtown core area. At night, the   
massive logo atop the building glows red against the dark city sky. But during   
the day, the massive logo atop the building was dark, like now.  
_____Like the other television networks, Network 66 had plenty of wealthy and  
technology. In the skyscraper that was Network 66, professional men and women   
in business suits--and sometimes lab coats--did the work to keep profits flowing.   
Profits, at any ethical cost...   
_____Network 66 was important now because this was where Dr. Nova had been able  
to get a job--a high-ranking job, in fact. The lucky bastard, it wasn't every  
day that Mr. Grossberg--CEO of Network 66--promoted anyone to the head of   
"Research and Development" on the first day. Truth be told, Dr. Nova--that   
gray-haired nutball of a scientist--was DAMNED lucky from the first day he   
came to the city.   
_____He had actually arrived a week ahead of Gally. That, though both this   
metaphysicist and that petite cyborg were both present when the box was opened.   
And, as far as Dr. Nova knew, Gally did not come here. So, he set to work in  
establishing himself in this new city.  
...  
_____The story went like this, as far as Mr. Grossberg knew. The research   
techies of Network 66 ran into Dr. Nova at a bar a week ago--at sunset. They   
spoke to him, invited him in for drinks--though Nova preferred eating some kind   
of foreign desert instead of getting drunk. From the first few seconds,   
Dr. Nova told them technological that sounded decades, if not centuries, into   
the future. Like, what he told about the rudiments of cyborg technology--and   
how a wise corporation could use that technology to eliminate competition.   
_____That, and he talked about technologies to manipulate aspects of reality   
itself to one's liking. Mr. Grossberg's knowledge of science was limited, but  
the techies in R&D said that everything Dr. Nova made too much sense to give   
up. They later BEGGED to have Dr. Nova head up Network 66's R&D department--  
though there never was a head of that department before...   
...  
_____Now, Dr. Nova was up on the 96th floor of this building, standing in   
Mr. Grossberg's grandly furnished and grand-sized executive office--the grand   
marble desk near the end of the room. Behind the marble desk were tall tinted   
windows that gave a somewhat darkened view of the city--the morning light muted.   
_____Mr. Grossberg himself was here. He was a business-suited, thirtyish-looking,   
pale man with slicked-back brown hair and a blue-eyed stare... The sort of   
blue-eyed stare that tended to glare coldly at times. Seated at his black   
marble desk, he was a grand lord seated at his corporate throne.  
_____Without a seat, Dr. Nova had to stand in front of the desk. But he did  
not mind standing, especially since he had a nice big bowl of his favorite   
desert. He was just spooning away, swallowing down plenty of that stuff.   
For such an average-looking man, Dr. Nova could eat plenty.   
_____But now, to business. Mr. Grossberg set his hands atop his desk. "Well,   
Dr. Nova. I see that you have had quite a bit of that flan you like so much.   
Let's get to the point."   
_____But the labcoat-wearing madman seemed unaware of Mr. Grossberg. Dr. Nova   
did not seem aware of anything at this moment, actually; he was too busy   
eating flan.   
_____His employees had their vices. Alcohol, cocaine, light neurostim, but...   
Never before did he see anyone addicted to a desert food! A flan addict, of  
all things, partaking of his addiction right in his office! Annoyed,   
Mr. Grossberg SLAPPED the desk with both palms. "Didn't you just hear me?"  
_____"Oh, I did! I did! Mmm, this is good flan! It lacks that slight undertaste   
of somewhat toxic impurities as found in Scrap Iron City, but still...   
DELICIOUS! Mmm, yes!"  
_____Mr. Grossberg's patience was on a knife-sharp edge. "Dr. Nova! I did   
NOT hire you to eat flan in my office. You have been in my employ for a week.  
Almost half a million credits have gone straight into your new lab facilities  
in this building, as well as plenty of cash for your new living quarters. What  
do YOU have for ME now?"  
_____"Ah-h-h...!" sighed the lab-coated madman. With some effort, he stopped  
eating his flan. Cradling the bowl in his left arm, he began pacing. Pacing   
left and right. What he really wanted to do was continue eating this tasty   
flan, but...!   
_____"To begin," he began, "I am grateful for the facilities you have provided.  
Though I admit that my knowledge of cyborg technology is limited, and the   
technological resources available here are moderate, my assistants and I have  
made much progress! Yes, WONDERFUL progress." Pace, pace, pace...   
_____He stopped pacing long enough to swallow two spoonfuls of flan. "Delicious   
progress! Mmmm... Now, with the correct machinery set, we needed a test subject--  
a fresh body, complete with brain. In fact, we needed several test subjects--  
bodies and brains.   
_____"I am quite pleased about the ease with which whole bodies can be purchased   
in this city--from the so-called 'body banks.' That, and test subjects can be...  
'borrowed' from the so-called Fringe area at the city limits--the slums. My  
assistants used both of those resources.  
_____"After several instances of trial-and-error, my assistants and I have used   
the technology available to create several obedient cyborgs: human brains in  
electromechanical bodies. The brains had to be modified a bit, but they were   
relatively intact when the process was completed. Though the finished products   
are not quite up to the standards of strength I had in mind, they seem   
functional. Further testing is still required, however.   
_____"That accomplished, I also continued research on my box. Though its   
size and shape has not undergone any changes, its color slightly darkens at   
random intervals. I have tried to open it again, but I cannot. As with the   
last time I opened it? Well, let me say that the results were very, very  
interesting. Delicious results, in fact. Mmmm, as tasty as--" SLAM-M-M!  
_____Mr. Grossberg had slammed his fists against his desk, the sound echoing   
throughout this grand office. "You can continue work on that box of yours   
LATER. Now, about the cyborgs. You said that you have several of them   
available. Excellent, an experimental technology brought to the fore in a   
mere week. Now... When do I see them?"  
...  
_____Mr. Grossberg would see "them" right away. He and Dr. Nova left this   
grand office, went down the long hall--towards the elevators. To the left and   
right, flanking this hall, were the pistol-toting guards of Network 66 elite  
security--their uniforms vaguely resembled janitorial clothing. Though human,   
they may as well be robots; they were stiffly silent, even as Mr. Grossberg  
himself walked past.   
_____Since the R&D floors were just a few floors from the top of this skyscraper,   
the elevator ride was short. No need for chatter between Grossberg and Nova.   
The elevator doors opened, and Mr. Grossberg was quickly impressed with what   
he saw.   
_____This area was changed, different from before. He had occasionally taken   
visits to the R&D floors before, just seeing long rows of computer workstations   
and pale skinny people in lab coats working away. They did their job, and he   
let them. But now...   
_____Oh, NOW! Now, this entire floor had been changed into one large room--  
radically altered to fit Dr. Nova's cyborg development program. This wide   
room now had white marble and white walls, a white room softly lit by slightly   
filtered fluorescent lighting. Scientists working here... The computers were   
now along the right side, against the wall. And two tables were set up in the   
middle. At the far left wall were what looked like raised metal caskets,   
though caskets did not have so many wires and pipes connected to them. The  
professionals in casual clothing and lab coats worked both sides of the room,   
at the computers on the right and at the casket-like equipment at the left.  
_____Mr. Grossberg walked towards the left side of the room, his hard-polished  
shoes making clacking sounds as he walked. Technicians over at that side of  
the room glanced up occasionally, then paused in their work as the important   
man in the business suit approached. They stood stock-still, like small animals   
being approached by a large, hungry coyote.  
_____Then, this wide room was quiet save for the sounds of typing on the far   
right side, along with the slight hum of electromechanical machinery. Everyone  
anticipated what Mr. Grossberg had to say.  
_____"The good doctor said you had things to show me," said Mr. Grossberg.   
"So where are the things? Show me the new toys."  
_____One of the technicians, a balding nervous sort, stood up from kneeling   
beside one of the tube-fed caskets. "Well, Mr. Grossberg, thanks to Dr. Nova's   
extensive technological input," he began, "we have successfully turned four of   
ten test subjects into cybernetically enhanced beings. We have taken biological   
brains, altered them, and successfully integrated those bodies within   
electromechanical bodies. However, we cannot be sure of their viability just   
yet. We would like to test them... If that is fine with you, sir."  
_____"Really?" went Mr. Grossberg. "Are you just saying that to placate me,   
or will you actually show them to me? It all sounds impressive, but how does  
the final product LOOK?"  
_____The balding technician smiled and stood a little straighter. "Well, sir,  
they look like this..." That technician then turned to two other people in   
lab coats. "Let's power up Number Three, and open the hatch."  
_____Those two technicians complied. They quickly walked to the other side of   
the room, where the computer workstations were. Seconds later, things on this  
side of the room began to happen.   
_____There was a hiss as the airtight seal on one of the caskets shut off.   
With a whirring sound of electric motors, the lid on that silvery casket raised  
up on motorized hinges--opened. When the frosty mist cleared and the lid open,   
something was visible.   
_____It was something made of metal... The metal body was almost skeletally   
thin, especially in the arms and legs--though the joints were thick. And the   
hands were claw-like--sharp fingers, articulated with exposed machinery.   
The head was a metal skull with a mask-like face--a face made of rubber.   
Video lenses for eyes.  
_____Dr. Nova stepped up to Mr. Grossberg's right side. The metaphysicist   
somehow obtained a fresh bowl of flan from somewhere--probably from some kind   
of dispenser. "Delicious! Well... Ahem! Mr. Grossberg, you may want to   
stand back a bit."  
_____"Hmm..." went Mr. Grossberg. He backed off a bit, taking a few steps   
back. What did that flan-eating madman have in mind?  
_____And he soon found out. "Number Three, get out of the storage unit and   
stand up," ordered the doctor. The skeletal metal-man complied. He put his  
skeletal metal hands on the edges of the casket. He next slowly swung his   
left leg out, putting the left foot to the marble floor. The other leg followed,   
and he stood--a blank look on his rubber face.   
_____"Now, introduce yourself to Mr. Grossberg," said Dr. Nova. "If it were   
not for his cash and my flan... AHEM! Sorry. If it were not for Mr. Grossberg's   
cash, you would be dead--not that death is too much of an inconvenience given   
what I could develop soon... Well, what are you waiting for? Speak up! Tell  
the CEO who you are."  
_____"I am NUMBER THREE. I am a PROTOTYPE," droned the skeletal metal-bodied   
man, hands slightly swinging. "I will serve your purpose." A tinny, robotic  
voice.   
_____"My God," went Mr. Grossberg. "This thing is like a cross between a   
zombie and a robot. It talks and can stand up, but what is it really good for?   
Can it DO anything else?" He turned around. "I want to see it work. I want   
to see how tough it is."  
_____A few more spoonfuls of flan, and Dr. Nova nodded. "Mmm... Delicious!   
We can do that, just for you." Addressing the prototype cyborg, he said,   
"Number Three, approach the test area."  
_____Going slowly, the metal-bodied man clomped ponderously across the floor.  
He stopped in a yellow-and-white striped rectangular area on the floor. Machinery  
whirred in the floor, and then he was boxed in by a circular glass barrier   
that slid up from the floor.  
_____"We use this to test kinetic tolerances," said Dr. Nova, bowl of flan in   
his left hand. He spooned a bit more. "Mmm...! Okay, start with some small   
arms fire! Nine millimeter, single shots!"  
_____Someone over at the right side of the room nodded, then tapped a few keys  
on a computer keyboard. Over here, something like a video camera slid down   
into the glass case, but it had a gun barrel in place of a cameral lens.   
_____CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The gun popped out a few shots at the solid chest  
of the prototype cyborg in the glass case. But there was no damage, just   
little sparks as the bullets ricocheted off of the titanium. The prototype  
cyborg's rubber face was still stoic.  
_____Dr. Nova swallowed a bit more flan. "Delicious! Now, we will go for the  
strength test! Drop in a test animal. One stronger than human."  
_____A few more keystrokes at the other side of the room, and the ceiling-  
mounted gun in the case withdrew. The ceiling over the annealed glass case   
opened up wider, and a hairy, muscular gorilla dropped in.   
_____The squat, strong animal looked around, snarled. It saw the cyborg, and  
STRUCK the metal being in the chest. Had the intended victim been human, the   
chest would have been caved in.   
_____The prototype cyborg staggered, but still stood. No damage! THUMP!   
The gorilla tried again! THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! It tried pounding the cyborg a   
few more times. But that did not work; the gorilla only bloodied its limbs   
in pounding the cyborg. Snarling, fangs bared, the gorilla pounced... But   
that was a deadly mistake.  
_____All that the prototype cyborg did was raise its hands to chest level,   
fingers out. Silvery fingers gripped into the gorilla's meaty shoulders--  
skewering the living meat. The large animal howled and snarled, began to   
shake. Blood splurted from wounds and onto the floor inside the sealed area--  
some splurting against the case. And the gorilla whooped some more in pain.   
_____"My goodness..." said Mr. Grossberg. He expected the skinny cyborg to  
be crumpled like aluminum foil. But the gorilla was the thing that crumpled.  
"Number Three, kill it. It's making too much noise and blood."   
_____Inside the case, Number Three heard the command from Mr. Grossberg. There   
was so much blood spread out inside the case that what the cyborg did next   
wasn't visible. All that Mr. Grossberg saw was that the cyborg did something   
very quick and very violent, making for an awful RIPPING sound of meat being   
torn--living meat. The gorilla only whooped once more when it died.  
_____Dr. Nova chewed his flan... "Flame test!" he shouted. "Alcohol flame.   
This will clean the cyborg and the test area."  
_____There was a FWOOSH of bluish flame in the annealed glass case, from the  
floor. Had the flame gone from the ceiling downward, there would have been   
danger to the prototype cyborg: a top-down flame would have heated the brain.   
Instead, the rush of high-pressure alcohol flame just incinerated flesh and   
blood inside the case, flaring against the cyborg's skeletal metal feet.  
_____When the flaming stopped, the gorilla's remains were skeletal--a skeleton  
surrounded by dark powder that had once been flesh and blood. Standing above   
it was the cyborg, standing and slightly swaying. Its rubber face wilted and  
drooped because of the heat, but it did not seem to care.  
_____"I like what I see," said Mr. Grossberg. "A few more of these could be   
quite helpful to some of my plans for network competition. And you said that   
you're only limited by today's technology?"   
_____Eating up a bit more flan, Dr. Nova answered. "If the manufacturing  
capabilities of this city's resources were much more refined, I could continue  
work on my true specialty, that of nanotechnology. THAT, my friend, would   
most certainly have lead to a whole different story! But... Mmmm! Delicious!   
This is VERY good flan, indeed!" And he walked away to get some more.   
---  
_____Back elsewhere in the city, back at the 1st Precinct, Gally and Officer  
Murphy were being briefed. Murphy wore his bulky black kevlar padding, his   
helmet on his desk. Gally was dressed as usual in black sleeveless bodysuit--  
which was rinsed and polished. In fact, Gally herself had been rinsed and   
cleaned in a shower--despite officers worrying about her becoming rusty or  
something. She looked fresh and new. Both the petite cyborg and kevlar-clad  
officer stood behind a desk in the main room, Murphy's desk.  
_____Detective Walthers had already gone to the desks of other officers, giving  
them their instructions before sending them out. He was now here at this desk.  
_____"Essentially, you two are patrolling the middle northern sector of the  
Fringes. It's Sector N-3," he said. Murphy and Gally nodded.   
_____"It's a typical patrol," continued the detective. "Just go your route,   
looking for any outbreaks of overt violence or trouble. As we know, plenty of   
things happen there that go against the laws. But unless its an outright   
disturbance to the peace, try not to interfere.   
_____"As it is, all the poor bastards in the Fringes are spooked up about ghosts   
and aliens now. Rumors about some kind of old man in suspenders and slacks,   
talking crazy stuff. First Max Headroom takes over our televisions at random,   
now we've got rumors of spooks. Just great.  
_____"Anyway, N-3 is an easy patrol," finished the detective. "Good for beginners  
like Gally here. Any questions, you two?"   
_____At this point, a Metro Cop in kevlar armor and black helmet came jogging   
up. He was in a hurry to talk to Detective Walthers. "What's up, Trace?"   
asked the detective.  
_____"It's fuckin' Headroom...! Pardon my French," said the newly arrived   
Metro Cop, his voice muffled by his helmet. "He wants to talk to the cyborg-  
girl. And the guy won't freakin' go away until he does!"   
_____"God-damnit..." muttered the detective. "Okay, let me guess. He's in   
the monitor room, right? Hogging up security data feeds?"   
_____"No, he's bein' a real asshole this time! Takin' up the tv in Waiting   
Room #2," answered Officer Trace. "And we can't freakin' unplug the tv without   
breakin' the regulations. Unless... Heh, heh... Unless ya wanna look the   
other way while I bend a few rules. Ya know?"  
_____"No, no, no..." answered Walthers. "Gally, Murphy...let's go talk to Max  
Headroom. He's probably going to crack jokes about my tie again. The bastard  
always does." A gesture from Walthers, and the two followed him out of the   
main room.  
---  
_____Down the hall, near the ground-floor entrance, there were two small   
waiting rooms: Waiting Room #1 and Waiting Room #2. Both of them were the   
same--small and functional. Both were on opposite sides of the hall. These   
two rooms were where citizens could walk in and make complaints to whatever   
desk sergeant was on duty.   
_____Left of the hall was Waiting Room #2--just like Waiting Room #1. In it   
was simple furniture. Two long benches at the sides, with a glassed-in reception   
window built into one wall. A television was suspended from the ceiling.   
_____Gally, Murphy, and Detective Walthers walked in and looked up at the   
television just above standing height. Indeed, the blonde-haired computer-  
generated commentator was on the television, diagonal line patterns running   
in the background.  
_____"H-h-hello, you all!" said the man in the television. "Hi to you, metal   
girl! G-g-gosh, it's been SO-O-O long since we last met!" He sniffed a sad  
sniff. "I miss you!"   
_____Looking at the man in the television, Gally shook her head once. "It has   
been a mere nine hours. Can a person count that as being 'a long time'?" she   
asked.   
_____"S-s-sorry..." said the man in the television, his voice still with that  
stutter-glitching. "Nobody's-nobody's-nobody's perfect, except me sometimes.   
Well, I'm not as perfect as perfect can be, but I'm close." He grinned.   
"B-b-but there's someone you have to MEET today. That is, someone else besides   
ME. By the way, nice necktie, Detective Walthers. Which t-t-trash can did   
you dig it out of?"  
_____"Aw, Hell! I knew he'd pick on it!" grunted Walthers, crossing his white-  
sleeved arms as so he covered some of his tie. "Cut to the point, Headroom.   
Why are you really here?"  
_____"What do I w-w-want? You mean, besides you changing your taste in   
neckties?" answered Headroom. "Okay-okay-OKAY, I said all that I wanted to   
say. Again... Gally, just be ready to meet a VERY good friend of mine. In   
fact, he's S-S-SUCH a good friend that he and I are almost the same person.   
Now, I must say, 'A BIENTOT, MA CHERE!'" He puckered a kiss to Gally, then   
vanished from the television. Now, there was a commercial for oatmeal playing  
on the screen.   
_____Detective Walthers shrugged. "In that case, I want you two to patrol   
another part of the Fringes altogether. I still don't trust that computer-  
generated guy."  
_____"Why does Max annoy you so?" asked Gally. "Though he seems less than   
serious, his intentions just may be helpful. And he helps without request for  
rewards, not even monetary reward."  
_____"Hah, imagine that. Money, for Max Headroom," commented Murphy. "What   
would Headroom do with a credit rod? What would he buy, some kind of virtual   
mansion?" He looked to Detective Walthers. "Anyway, what's our new   
assignment?"  
_____"You may as well go back to where first Gally appeared in town," answered   
Walthers. "The western-most sector. Particularly, patrol the area that's   
just a block from downtown. Now let's get you to your car."  
...  
_____By an absolutely brutal coincidence, something was happening in that area  
of the Fringes at that very moment--the sector that Walthers reassigned Gally   
and Murphy to. It was a brutal and absolutely frightening event, in fact.   
_____But the event was only a "test." That, though the "test" made for the   
loss of a dozen lives among the impoverished and semi-employed derelicts who   
populated these slums. This was going to be a test of experimental technology   
being misused.  
_____The time was now 1036, morning, and the people of this part of the Fringes   
did what they normally did when not working. They sat around outside the   
ill-maintained buildings, drinking and talking, smoking and relaxing. About   
half of this area's people were away--working in some dangerous and low-pay   
industrial building. But the people who were left around here for now were   
deemed too low-skilled and unhealthy to work.   
_____With the warm sun going higher in the sky, things seemed slow and tired.   
It was hot, but the people here were used to the heat--to an extent. Anyone   
who wasn't just died anyway, their rag-clad bodies snatched away and sold for   
cash--their meager possessions also stolen.   
_____A van pulled up along one of these hot-and-tired streets. Some lazy eyes   
glanced warily at the van, half-caring about who drove it. If that van stayed  
here for too long, it was probably going to be stolen and stripped by some of  
the local opportunists.  
_____The rear doors opened, and frosty misted air gushed out. Then out came  
seven metal-bodied monsters. Skinny and skeletally thin metal bodies, their   
faces made out of rubber.   
_____That is too fucking weird! People at the sidewalks and on front porches   
could not believe what they were seeing! What the HELL were those things?   
Was this some sort of Metro Cop stunt? And who was... Oh shit!  
_____Those metal freaks suddenly moved a lot faster! One of them stumbled and  
fell without getting up; it malfunctioned. But the other six spread out and   
RAN at the bystanders here at the sidewalks.  
_____One of the metal monsters ran at a poor guy leaning against a red-brick   
building. He dropped his cheap bottle of gin-and-cleaning fluid when the   
metal freak picked him up by the neck--sharp fingers sinking in. Red liquid   
jetted from a pierced jugular vein. His blood mixed with the spilled drink   
on the sidewalk.  
_____"No-o-o...!" squealed a group of kids as they tried to get away. But   
two of the metal freaks were more than enough to snatch them up and tear them   
apart. Blood and shredded flesh mixed with tattered clothing as the children   
were physically destroyed, their screams dying in the warm air and echoing  
among the buildings.   
_____Someone sleeping in an abandoned car was quickly awakened when one of the  
doors was snatched open. He just had a glimpse at the metal freak as it tore   
out some intestines and stomach. The sleepy derelict then realized that those   
were HIS insides being torn out, and then he died.   
_____And the prototype cyborgs continued rushing about the streets--tearing up  
men, women and children. Panic spread. People within three city blocks from  
the scene saw bleeding, injured people running away from SOMETHING. At least,   
those who got away managed to do so with most of their limbs intact. They were   
screaming, waiving their arms, and being extremely loud. Some of them even   
dropped dead from just terror--which strained their drug-scarred hearts. It   
was becoming a quick and violent mess on that street, caused by just six of   
those THINGS.   
_____Within just thirteen minutes, it was over. The six prototype cyborgs,  
painted red with blood, walked back to the waiting van. When those got in,   
two people in biohazard suits got out from the front and lifted up the cyborg  
that stumbled and malfunctioned; they put it in the back of the van along with   
the others. And they closed the door.   
_____The van motored away, driving along the street. As it did, the thermo-  
reactive paint on its sides changed colors. And the license plates flipped  
over, changing. A big phony antenna extended on the top. In short, it changed   
to look like a different van. Going back to downtown...  
_____What it left behind was a scene much different from when it came. Bodies.   
Bodies, torn and mutilated, were all along this street. They looked like meat   
tossed onto sidewalks and on front stoops, lying in the street and near gutters.   
Many of them were ripped open. Faces showed looks of bloody horror. The   
breeze blew through the abandoned street, blowing between the buildings and   
over the dead.  
---   
_____Gally was in a police cruiser with Officer Murphy, with Murphy driving.   
The police cruiser was a contrast. It was a fully bright day, but the dark  
vehicle was like a polished shadow cruising through the streets, the white  
MC logo on its sides. A respected and feared presence, the vehicle meant that  
there were Metro Cops on the way; everyone best behave.  
_____This four-wheeled vehicle of Metro Cop authority passed from the urban   
downtown city-scape and into the slums at the outer edges of the city--the   
Fringes. And, the vehicle should have carried Metro Cop authority with it.   
People in the Fringes normally kept their respect and their distance when the   
Metro Cops came...  
_____But this was not a normal situation.... THUMP! Gally flinched, her large   
dark eyes looking at the car window on her side. Someone had thrown a small   
dead animal at the window. Something like a rat, but larger.   
_____THUMP! THUMP-THUMP! "What the Hell?" exclaimed Murphy as he gripped   
the steering wheel. THUMP! THUMP, THUMP! "They're throwing possums and   
trash at us. Gally, this is known as a 'civil disturbance.'"   
_____"Trash and...possums?" asked Gally. "Why throw such animals? What has   
come to pass in this city that cause the citizens to throw possums?"  
_____"Evolution happened. Survival to the fittest. Damned possums ate all   
the rats years ago," said Murphy. "Now I wish they hadn't... At least rats   
wouldn't have made so much damned noise. What's going on here?"   
_____As Officer Murphy slowed the vehicle, Gally saw more people of the Fringes.  
She saw them angry. They were the angry, ragged masses in more- or less-rough   
looking clothes, rough looks on their faces as they stood on the sidewalks.   
They were shouting now, shaking their fists and threatening to become violent.   
They seemed not far from changing their tactics--from throwing small dead   
rodents to throwing punches and bricks.   
_____But the people were not stupid. On more than one occasion, Metro Cops had   
"suppressed" angry masses with lethal force. The Metro Cops were much better  
armed than the people of the Fringes. And the people of the Fringes did not   
really want more violence today. Not yet, at least.  
_____Left hand on the steering wheel, Officer Murphy reached down with his right  
and clicked on the two-way radio. It was a two-way video-audio connection,  
and a female dispatcher--sergeant-rank--appeared on the screen. "Officer Murphy,  
what is your situation?" asked the dispatcher.  
_____Gally looked at the small screen once, then went back to looking outside.  
Worried about this situation. In Scrap Iron City, people were normally too   
too tired or too hungry to be this violent. The people of Scrap Iron City   
were generally more soft-natured, though some turned to extreme violence. But   
this is not Scrap Iron City.  
_____She listened to Officer Murphy communicate with the dispatcher over the   
radio. "I'm partnered with the cyborg. We're en route to our assigned patrol   
of the Fringes. But we now have a civil disturbance in progress," he said.  
_____The dispatcher's tinny voice sounded through the speaker. "I have a   
triangulated lock on your location. Do you request suppression? There are   
multiple units available." Indeed, in a jiffy, there could be plenty of   
Metro Cops on the scene--ready to shoot down people until things calmed down.  
_____Ignoring the scene outside, Gally looked at Murphy. Would it come to   
fighting the masses outside? In the darker part of her mind, she wondered   
how many she could kill by hand before someone stopped her. And she actually   
grinned...  
_____Murphy saw the petite cyborg-girl grin, and he did not like it. There   
was something feral about how she looked now, something dark and dangerous.  
He saw her large eyes glinting with something he did not like at all. And   
somehow, he kept this car going straight despite the cold feeling he had from   
looking into those eyes.  
_____"Officer Murphy?" interrupted the dispatcher's voice, cutting into Murphy's  
thoughts. "What is your answer? Units are available."   
_____"Negative on that," said Murphy, shaking his head and looking ahead again.   
"I would like additional units for backup, but NOT for suppression. Please have   
backup on standby only."  
_____"Roger that," answered the dispatcher. And the Metro Cops logo appeared  
on the small communications screen, with "standby" typed out at the bottom.   
If Murphy needed backup, all that he needed to do was ask.   
_____"Gally, speak to me," he said. "Speak... Don't look that way. What's   
wrong with you?"  
_____The petite cyborg blinked. Looked away. "I give apology. It is just   
that I anticipated a physical conflict, fighting. Killing is my profession,  
and it sometimes becomes more than that."  
_____Murphy shrugged. "I suppose... But you just may have to kill someone  
here and today. Just be ready." He then slowed the car, stopped it.   
_____And the angry people along the sidewalks suddenly stopped their aggression.   
When a Metro Cop stopped, he or she meant business... Murphy and Gally opened  
their car doors, stepped out of the sleek black vehicle.   
---  
_____Standing outside, Murphy spoke to Gally. "Get ready," he said. Then   
Gally leapt atop the vehicle roof, crouched there. The Metro Cop reached into   
the vehicle to get a handheld loudspeaker--a bullhorn. With his free hand,   
the kevlar-clad officer pointed to a man in smeared coveralls, standing on the   
sidewalk along with several others. "YOU, tell me what this is all about!"  
_____The man in coveralls shouted, "Bloke, I'll tell ye wha' happened! Me   
friends done got SLAUGHTERED! Just sittin' about, they were! Then some   
metal-bodied monsters were brought, and they butchered me mates! Wholesale   
murder! And WHERE WERE the METRO COPS? YE GOOD-FOR-NOTHIN' BOBBIES!"   
_____All around, the crowd shouted before Murphy shouted back--his voice   
amplified by his bullhorn. "QUIET! If you want to be suppressed, I can do   
that!"  
_____Gally was eyeing the people of the crowd when she heard the phrase   
"metal-bodied monsters." She promptly hopped down from the roof of the police   
cruiser, crossed her hands and forearms behind her back. That way, less of   
her arms stayed visible. Her head looked normal, and her bodysuit hid the rest  
of her metal physique.   
_____Her feelings for battle-lust turned to worry and shame. Particularly,   
shame in being metal-bodied. As far as she knew, everyone else in this city   
was fully human, and she was not. She was an outsider. An oddity. A monster.  
_____"REPEAT that description?" asked Murphy through the bullhorn. "Did you   
say MONSTERS? What do you mean?"   
_____"I mean what I said, ye bobby!" responded the man in coveralls. "Don't   
ye all agree? MONSTERS!" The crowd shouted their agreement. They shouted   
about monsters! Monsters made of METAL!   
_____"SHOW us!" answered Murphy. He then got into the police cruiser and put  
the bullhorn away. "Gally, let's go!" he shouted above the clamor of the mob.  
"We have to investigate."  
---  
_____Gally got into the vehicle with Murphy, closed the door. The phrase "metal-  
bodied monsters" stayed with her. Metal-bodied monsters? Wide-eyed, sitting   
in the shotgun seat, she stared at her metal hands and arms. By that description,  
she was indeed one of the alleged monstrosities.  
_____Her body was metal--hidden beneath her form-fitting bodysuit. Beneath   
the synthetic flesh of her face and beneath her dark hair, her skull was metal   
as well. A body of metal machinery shaped like a girl-woman. Perhaps, her  
soul was no longer human, either... "What am I?" she asked in a small voice.  
_____Clenching his jaw, Murphy had no immediate answer. But he asked something.  
"Gally, did any more of your kind come to this city? Any more...cyborgs?   
Any more from wherever you came from?" Seconds of silence.   
_____"Gally, you have to talk to me. Something happened, and I need all the  
information I can get. If so, are they monsters?"  
_____"I... I... I cannot answer. But please, perhaps we should move to   
investigate the current event," she said, changing the subject. "Not all   
cyborgs are monstrosities."  
_____Giving a shrug, Murphy looked ahead. There was a small part of the mob   
leading the way, going along the street. He began to slowly follow that group.   
They took a left turn up at the next intersection, and he turned the car that   
way as well.  
_____Gally's eyes were unfocused, her thoughts looking more inward. It was   
true that she liked killing. Killing people. Breaking and mutilating living   
people. Bringing them death. Killing deeply thrilled her in a way that   
nothing else did! But she also cared about some people, she really did. She   
had friends. She even had a sort of adopted father in Scrap Iron City.   
_____She blinked when she had a glimpse of HIM in the crowd ahead. HIM, the   
Kindly Old Man! He was among the tatter-clad people of the mob, a clean-clothed   
and thin old man with gray hair. And she was sure she saw him skipping along,  
as if amused...   
_____But it was just a glimpse. It could have been anyone. She did not see   
the Kindly Old Man in the mob anymore. What could a dapperly dressed, skinny  
old man be doing among the mob--especially in this heat?   
---  
_____They soon arrived at the scene... The scene of death. And the crowd   
stayed back as so those two in the police cruiser could see it all. Could see  
the death.  
_____Indeed, the dead were everywhere here. On the sidewalks, the dead lay   
fallen and just beginning to rot in the heat. Death was propped against some   
buildings as well, dead bodies slumped there. Death was on the asphalt of the   
street itself--mutilated bodies that no longer even looked human.   
_____There would have been flies, but toxicity and pollution had killed them off  
decades ago. But, the toxicity in the air and water hadn't killed off the   
bacteria. The bacteria, that made the bodies begin to bloat and rot so quickly   
in the warm humid city air.  
_____"Such is life..." said Gally. "And, such is death. Pain and slaughter.  
The flesh is weak, indeed." She clenched her metal hands, looked at the Metro  
Cop. "Officer Murphy, do not falter. Be stronger than your flesh."   
_____Indeed, Officer Murphy was coming quite close to tossing up vomit. He   
had to stop the car before he ran over a few stray torsos. And he re-activated   
the two-way radio link--which was still on standby mode. "This is...Murphy.   
Mass homicide in the Fringes! I repeat, mass homicide in the Fringes.   
Requesting backup and investigation." 


	3. The Network Telejournalist

The Other Box: Chapter 3 (by Elliot Bowers)  
...  
The Network Telejournalist  
...  
_____"Edison, you're nearing the location of the latest disturbance," went a   
woman's English-accented voice. Though the woman herself was miles away,   
Edison felt the care in her voice as if she were right here. And with  
the scene he was going to approach, he was going to need all the morale  
he could get. The woman on the other end of the connection was Edison's   
"controller," back at a terminal at Network 23 headquarters; she was both   
supervisor and secretary--a remote partner.   
_____"I hear you, Theora... And thanks," said Edison, readying the camera he   
was carrying along this poverty-ruined street. His video camera went with him   
everywhere--from sleek corporate research labs to open troubled streets like   
this. The video camera, it was the symbol of his profession: He was a   
tele-journalist.   
_____Theora's voice again came through the small speaker on the camera. Said,  
"Some of the audio intercepts I've decoded indicate trouble. Something is  
REALLY wrong at the scene. Be careful! I truly mean it this time..."  
_____He stopped for a moment, turned the video lens to himself. "I'll be as   
careful as necessary," he said. "Wouldn't want to get this camera ruined!"   
_____Whatever dark events happened in the city, be it in the Fringes or in the   
urban core, it was the journalist's responsibility to cover them. Edison was   
such a professional; he had to be there to reveal injustices and troubles of   
this land.  
_____And Edison looked as if he had been through many dark events. A tall,   
sinewy man in his thirties--his face worn gaunt by what he saw during his   
career. He often dressed semi-professionally. Slacks, and button shirt with   
brown shoes. A trenchcoat completed his outfit today, though he sometimes wore   
a leather jacket on cooler days.   
_____He walked on, going another block through these slums. People looked out   
from gritty windows on decrepit, ill-maintained buildings. Some of them waved:   
They knew Edison from television.   
_____He waved back, smiled briefly. A momentary reminder of how popular he was   
among some segments of the population. But he had to walk on, walk on quickly.  
And he had to keep being careful...  
_____Theora's voice again came from the small camera speaker. "You're within a   
block's radius of Ossett Street, the scene of the disturbance. I can't   
intercept too much police data about the scene, but Max said to be careful not   
to throw up. It's coming up on the next left... Get ready."  
_____"I hear you," said Edison, putting the video camera up to his right   
shoulder. Indeed, he saw a blockade of Metro Cops at the next intersection.  
"Are you seeing this? The police look pretty busy."   
_____"Damn... I see it," was the response through the speaker. "They didn't   
show up on my digital maps. That blockade probably won't allow anyone to pass.   
You'd best double back and go through an alley. There's one at your left."  
_____Not only did Theora see everything Edison's camera did, but she also saw   
more than that. Back at Network 23 headquarters, the woman was sitting at a   
multi-monitored terminal--with computers, audio-video recording equipment, and   
all the access it provided. One of the monitors showed the view from Edison's  
camera. A second monitor showed an overhead 3-D map of where Edison was   
walking. And it just now updated to show Metro Cop blockade placements.   
_____As Theora said, there was an alley. There was a hybrid smell of garbage   
and stale drug fumes, but Edison was used to it. Into the alley...  
_____Stalking through a layer of ankle-high garbage through here, he took a   
right into another alley. Camera on his shoulder, he was approaching the   
location of the so-called "disturbance."   
____Speaking in a low voice, he said, "It's a bit quiet for a disturbance...  
I'm almost there." Then, as he neared the end of this next alley, there was   
a new smell that wafted in from the street.  
_____It was vaguely familiar, the smell, but stronger than usual. Edison   
could not immediately identify it. Like, a smell of old meat and vat-grown   
almonds. He stopped at the end of this alley, crouching behind a large piece   
of metal junk.   
______He raised the lens of the video camera just high enough to look over the  
chunk of metal junk. Looking through the camera's eyepiece, he saw the scene  
out there, bright as the afternoon. And he saw the first body being covered   
up. Then another. Then a few more yet... He was seeing more than enough.   
"Oh no..." he went, feeling slightly sick. Still speaking in a low voice,  
he said, "Theora, I don't think I can go live on this story. Start a   
recording feed in three..."  
_____He waited for the small red "recording" light to come on. Three...   
Two... One... He began his presentation, speaking low and close into the   
micropphone.   
_____"This is Edison Carter, on location. Less than an hour ago, there were  
reports of a massive disturbance in this sector of the Fringes. This trouble  
was not a mere 'civil disturbance,' but something else. What you are seeing   
is, indeed, troubling. You are seeing deaths. Many deaths."   
_____He zoomed in on two Metro Cops out there. They were at a sidewalk across   
the street. Black gloves on, they were covering one of several bodies.   
_____"Was this a rare act of 'suppression' by the Metro Cops? If so, then why   
does no one else talk about this? I tried approaching some citizens earlier,   
regarding the incident here, but was simply told to look into it myself....   
Something has happened here, something deadly. If it was not an act of   
'suppression,' then it could be something darker."  
_____"Edison!" went Theora's voice, cutting into Edison's presentation.   
"Someone's rapidly approaching your exact location!" And that was all Edison   
needed to hear.   
_____He stood up, pivoted, and ran back deeper into the alley--running in a  
hunched-over running crouch. "Edison, be careful! The pursuer is approaching   
fast! VERY fast! Use the doorway to your right in that alley!"  
_____He stopped, opened the door he came to--at his right. It opened into a   
dimly lit hallway, some people slumped in it--the air thick with drug-smoke.   
No matter, he dove into there...   
_____Jogging through, he nearly stumbled over some of the drugged-up, slumped   
people. Drug addiction--a sad, troubling site no matter how many times Edison  
saw it.  
_____"Stop..." whispered Theora's voice. "Stay there. And...stay still."   
_____Edison did, kneeling in this hallway next to a bearded man in a rumpled   
business suit. No surprise: corporate executives sometimes exercised their   
darker vices to the Fringes. Though the drug-thickened air made the journalist   
feel slightly light-headed and disoriented, he stayed... This place was so   
dimly lit and smoky that he ought to be hidden.  
_____Pivoting around, he looked at the open doorway of this derelict-populated  
hall. Some of the drug addicts coughed, and some puffed on various drug   
paraphenalia--unaware of the tension and fear here.  
_____Slowly bringing his camera's eyepiece to his right eye, despite the watery  
tears, he looked into the eyepiece. Using the camera's filtering functions, he   
was able to get a somewhat better view of the doorway through the smoke. And   
then he saw his pursuer.  
_____"I know that you see me," came a female voice from outside. "Need I   
enter and extract you by way of brute force? Or, will you acquiesce and come   
out by your own will?"  
_____Edison smirked. A girl? He was being chased by a little kid? Since his   
video feed was still recording, he spoke. "Edison Carter again. I am in a  
hallway, out of the alley from which I was chased... At first, I assumed that  
I was being pursued by irate Metro Cops. But, it now seems that my 'pursuer'  
is a young girl--perhaps in her teens. She has now given me an ultimatum...   
One which I will accept for the sake of curiosity."   
_____He stood, still looking through the camera's view. Speaking up, "Okay!   
I'm leaving the hallway! I am unarmed, but am holding a video camera!"   
Stepping over slumped drug addicts, he emerged from the hallway and into  
the alley.   
...  
_____Out here, he had a better look at the petite girl who chased him. A pretty   
face--with dark eyes, a pert nose, and somewhat pouty lips. Her glossy dark   
hair was a contrast to her pale face. Her face matched the rest of her:   
petite and pretty, wearing a sleeveless bodysuit and shin-boots. But instead   
of there being bare arms, there was bare metal: Beneath the bodysuit, she   
seemed to be wearing a kind of form-fitting metal armor.  
_____He was sure to get a full view of her with the camera, standing in this   
alley. "Little girl, why were you chasing me away from the scene? And why   
are you wearing that odd armor? Did something happen back there that made   
you put it on?"  
_____The "girl" put on a defiant look. "To answer your first question, I chased  
you as fitting my orders. Such being, I was ordered to keep all journalists   
away from the crime scene. That is one answer.   
_____"To give a second answer, I say this. I am not wearing armor." Her   
solid silvery fingers went to a slight zipper at her neck. "THIS is beyond   
being mere armor!"  
_____With a quick zipping sound, the bodysuit parted down the front. And the   
girl exposed herself from neck to waist--her metal self. Only at first, it   
looked like form-fitting armor, fitting over the lithe female's body. But   
some things were wrong.   
_____It was the neck that gave it away. The girl's neck was metal. A segmented   
silvery throat went from neck to body. Also, there were absolutely no gaps in   
the joints of the metal finish.   
_____For the second time today, Edison felt sickened. But he did not drop  
the camera. "Your body... It's machinery! You're not human!"  
_____Eyes still on the man with the camera, the petite cyborg zipped up her  
bodysuit again. "And, you seem to be more than what you are. I have   
encountered your inhuman double."   
_____"My double?" asked Edison. "Okay, let's talk somewhere else. Outside of   
this alley." He lowered the camera; Theora would edit the footage later.  
...  
_____"Somewhere else" turned out to be out on Ossett Street--the crime scene   
that Edison tried to approach earlier. He and the metal-bodied girl came out   
from the alley and back to the street where the "disturbance" had happened.   
The bodies had all been put into cooled trucks by now, but there were still   
seven or so Metro Cops around. One was a man dressed like Edison--professional  
outfit complete with trenchcoat--but with a silver badge on his shirt. This   
was a Metro Cop detective.  
_____The detective strode hurriedly over to where Edison and Gally stood.   
With his quick stride, he was soon here. "Gally, I thought I told you to...!"   
He looked down at the camera Edison held at waist-level. "Ah, Hell! It's  
you, Carter. We're done cleaning up here, anyway. Damned well filled up BOTH   
our meat wagons."   
_____Edison looked at the detective, then looked down at this amazing being the  
detective called "Gally." Looking back at the detective, he asked, "If you   
don't mind, I'd like to ask a few questions." He tried to lift his camera to   
eye-level, but Gally put a quick hand on the reporter's right wrist.  
_____"It's okay," went the detective, addressing the cyborg-girl. "We're   
done cleaning up, so let him use that camera. There's not much for him to   
see now, anyway."  
_____"About 'Gally' here..." began Edison. "That's an interesting name for an   
interesting...being. What is she, a new type of remote robot? You address her  
as if she's human, yet she is not."  
_____"She IS human, you hack," grumbled the detective. "Well, in a way. But   
I'll let her answer your inquiries about that."  
_____"Hmm..." went Edison. "This is becoming intriguing. Human, or not human?   
Is this 'Gally' person part of a technological experiment?"   
_____Gally crossed her solid arms. "And you yourself are intriguing. For   
one question, how do you come to resemble a true-life incarnation of Max   
Headroom? And for another, are you the person I am to meet today?"  
_____"Please let me ask the questions for now," went Edison. "It's my job.   
Detective, let me start with you." He hoisted his camera to his right shoulder.   
"By the way, what happened here? Another incident of 'suppression?' And what  
does this strange girl have to do with it?"  
_____The detective shrugged, looking into the camera. "Suppression? Not this  
time, Carter! It looks as if the people here were already `suppressed' before  
we got here. Too much suppression, if you know what I mean." He gestured to   
the street behind him.   
_____"I do NOT know what you mean," said Carter. "I was chased away from the  
scene before I could record any real footage. But there were bodies. Dead   
people. And you were in a hurry to remove them from the scene."  
_____"Well, because people were becoming frightened," answered the detective.   
"The people of the Fringes are getting spooked. Hell, I'd be spooked too--if   
there was some crazy stunt in which over a dozen people ended up dead."  
_____"Over a dozen?" asked Edison. "And you thought you could cover up the   
bloody incident by barring reporters from the scene while you did your quick   
cleanup?"  
_____"No-o-o," went the detective, "I thought that I could respect the dead  
by KEEPING THEM AWAY FROM VIDEO CAMERAS! But now that we've taken away the   
remains, you won't have all the images of blood and guts you journalists   
like. People DIED here, damn it! And the deaths of innocents shouldn't   
be exploited for God-damned television ratings." That said, the detective   
turned around on his right heel, began walking away.   
_____A few steps away along the sidewalk, he stopped. Said, "Oh... And Gally,  
you deal with the journalist here however you please. Come back to the station   
when you want. The chief himself said he'd give you your day's pay." Then he   
continued walking away.   
_____Edison was left here with Gally. "I suppose we have many questions   
to ask each other," he said. "Would you mind if I tagged along with you back  
to the police station?"  
_____Theora's voice came from the camera. "Edison, a network van is on it's   
way, nearing your location. Look to the east end of the street."  
...  
_____So he did tag along, thanks to a red Network 23 van driving up to the   
police barricade. Theora, back at Network 23 headquarters, had actually   
summoned the red van while Edison was being chased--in case the reporter had   
to abort the investigation. With no need to run anymore, Edison asked the   
driver of the network van to follow the convoy of police vehicles--back to   
the 1st Precinct.   
_____As the Metro Cops and the journalist left the scene in their respective  
vehicles, a howling wind blew. A how-w-wling wind, blowing through the   
currently abandoned street--blood splashed on the sidewalks and on asphalt.   
Then HE hopped out from an alley and stood in the street. It was the Kindly   
Old Man.   
_____It was HIM, indeed. Gray hair atop his wrinkled old head, he still wore   
that dapper style of dress--with suspenders. But this time, something was   
different about him... The eyes. His eyes were now extremely dark.   
_____Standing in the street, he regarded the scene. Some mumbled words came   
from his lips, but whatever he said was snatched away by the breeze. Then he   
vanished, as if he was never there at all.  
...  
_____Back at the 1st Precinct, that grand old police station, Edison was   
dropped off by the red Network 23 van. He was told to wait for Gally while  
she was being debriefed about the situation. The journalist would have gone  
into the station, out of the hot city air, but he did not want to go into one   
of the waiting rooms. Those were depressing.  
_____So this tall journalist just sat down right here, on the front steps of   
the police building--resting his video camera on his knees. The afternoon  
weather wasn't too bad today, and watching downtown traffic go by was   
interesting. This was quite a neat and well-kept city neighborhood. Then   
again, compared to the Fringes, most any downtown area looked neat and   
well-kept.  
_____In the periphery of his sight, he saw a small dark figure sit to his right.   
He glanced to the side, saw that it was the metal-bodied girl. She said   
nothing for greeting, instead took to doing what he was doing: looking at the   
view.   
_____Mentally shrugging, Edison went back to looking at the view as well. If   
the metal-bodied girl wanted to talk, she would talk.  
_____And then, Edison fully realized the novelty of this situation. He was   
sitting next to something that wasn't quite human, a new type of being--an   
actual cyborg! Over the past few years, this journalist had covered news   
stories in the past about corporate experiments on the human nervous system--  
experiments done on brains and bodies. Those stories led to certain rumors,  
previously unsubstantiated rumors, about cyborg technology. But now, those   
rumors had taken on reality.   
_____Yet it wasn't odd at all. Here he was, sitting next to a smallish young  
female whose body had been replaced with well-engineered machinery. There   
must be millions of credits in technology put into that body of hers and   
millions more to be made from that technology. Yet, the cyborg-girl just sat   
calmly here, sat to his right. It felt no different from sitting next to   
a human being.  
_____She spoke. "You have not shirked my presence. Then, you do not see me   
as a monster. Or could it be that you are more brave than others? More   
foolhardy? Why else would you choose to wait for me? Wait to speak with me?"   
_____"It's professional responsibility," answered Edison. "If I run, it's to   
get TO and FROM a story--without being killed. Courage is all part of the job--  
but I don't need any courage here. And you're not a monster, kid. In fact..."   
He shifted his video camera to his left arm as so he could pat the cyborg-girl   
on a shoulder--feeling the hardness of alloy. "In fact, you're a cute kid."  
_____"C-C-CUTE KID?" exclaimed a small voice from somewhere. "Since WHEN does   
Edison Carter RUN from kids? Just wait until-UNTIL-until Murray hears this.   
He'll be glad to know that his T-T-TOP reporter is a sissy!"   
_____Gally looked around at the steps and street, then set her eyes on the   
camera. The voice was coming from Edison's video camera, of course. She said,   
"That is the voice of the television man, Max Headroom. His voice matches your   
own. You must tell why."  
_____"H-H-HEY!" went the voice from the camera speaker. "I'd say EDISON is   
starting to s-s-sound more like ME-ME-ME! That means he's becoming more   
mature."   
_____Hearing that, Edison rolled his eyes. "I said that I'd answer some of your  
questions, so now I will. You see, Max Headroom IS me...sort of. He's a   
digital copy of my memories, personality and intelligence. A copy of my brain,   
basically. He was made because a certain network executive didn't think that I   
would survive after being injured. A hit on the head.  
_____"The process was experimental, but it worked. I lived, and so did my   
digital copy. My copy, Max Headroom, can now go any place that's electronically   
linked to anything--preferrably to places with speakers and cameras as so he can   
see and hear.   
_____"So, there you have it. That's why Max looks and sounds like me. He's   
my double. His voice glitches occasionally, and some of his memories are   
fuzzy, but he's generally good--if a bit annoying."   
_____Max chimed in from the video camera speaker. "Ah, a happy-happy-happy   
ending! Both Max and Edison l-l-live HAPPILY ever after. It deserves a   
R-R-ROUND of applause! I'd clap, if I had real hands to clap WITH!"  
_____Edison looked at Gally. "It's weird. Everyone else had heard about my  
infamous digital double. That, if they haven't actually heard him on their  
televisions. Now it's your turn to answer a few questions about yourself.   
How did you get that way? I mean, become a cyborg? A corporate experiment?"  
_____A moment of speechless silence, filled in with the sounds of cars going  
by this police station. A slight breeze played with Gally's dark hair. She   
pulled her knees to her chest, closed her metal arms over knees.... "I do not   
remember how," she finally said. "But, the process was not at all experimental.   
Not where I came from. In Scrap Iron City, as well as throughout the lands of   
my origin, there are many cyborgs--many people whose bodies have been augmented   
and even replaced with synthetics."  
_____"Wait... How?" asked Edison. "There aren't any real cyborgs around here,   
except you. If any corporation really developed reliable cyborg technology,   
then there'd be plenty more of your kind. I don't think you're lying, but   
where are they? By the way, where is this land you're talking about? And   
what is 'Scrap Iron City'? A new corporation?"  
_____"I should ask that question of you," responded Gally, uncurling herself.  
"Where is THIS land? Where is THIS city? This strange city, with strange   
aspects? You have police here, but police were history and should not exist.   
You say that cyborg technology is experimental, but it is not. Another   
question... Why has there not been a single mention of Zalem here?" She   
leaned to the side, close to Edison. Looked up into his eyes, her large eyes   
inches from Edison's gaunt face. "Is this land real? Or, is it in a place  
other than reality? Do I dream?"  
_____For just a moment, Edison had a glimpse of something dark in those eyes--  
unsettling. He was further unsettled by the slight scent of plastic on Gally's   
artificial breath. The man was rigid when Gally leaned back away.   
_____"What do you mean by that?" asked the journalist. "This land is as real   
and as solid as it can be." He thumped the solid steps of this police station   
with his right palm. Then he gestured to the surroundings, the city-scape.   
"See? It's solid. And look around. It's real."  
_____There were neat shops and buildings across the street and over here.   
Cars still went by, as did people in business suits. Several Metro Cop came   
jogging down these wide steps, glimpsed at the two here, then went on their  
way. "At least," said Edison, "this city is real enough for me."   
_____"A-A-ND...! It's real enough for me," added Max Headroom from the video   
camera. Edison then looked into the eyepiece. Indeed, Max was still "here"--  
communicating through the video camera. The computer-generated man flashed a   
grin. "Oh, by the way, Theora wants to talk-talk-talk to you. In fact, she's   
been wanting to talk to you for the past few-few-FEW minutes."  
_____"Well, why didn't you let her through?" asked Edison. "Max, she's my   
controller. My partner. It's an important professional relationship. Do you   
know how IMPORTANT that is?"  
_____"But-but-but you and Miss Cyborg here were having SUCH a pleasant conversation!"   
answered the computer-generated man. "Why would I want to-to-to interrupt   
that?"   
_____"Because it's important," began Edison. "You must learn to..." And that  
began Edison's brief lesson to Max on ideas of responsibility and self-control.   
Max argued back, quipping jibes and jokes...  
_____Gally smiled at the bantering interplay between the two, two who had the  
same voice. It was like hearing a person argue with himself. And, in a way,   
that was what was happening: Max was an electronic double of Edison, though a   
more carefree and playful one.  
_____Max's voice stopped silent, then Gally heard a woman's light voice come   
from the video camera Edison was looking into. Said, "Thank God! Edison, I   
tracked you to the 1st Precinct, but couldn't get to you after that. I thought   
the Metro Cops were holding you."   
_____"Thank Max for blocking your signal," said Edison. "He's been occupying   
my camera. So, what's up? Anything new?"   
_____"I tried using some equipment here to analyze your video footage of the   
crime scene," answered Theora. "Well, tried analyzing what video footage you   
obtained before being chased off. I had to send it to Bryce. He was a bit   
busy, but he should get to it soon. In the meanwhile, I received some odd   
e-mails from our Network 23 site... Essentially, they were warnings about   
metal monsters that eat people and go on bloody rampages."  
_____"Not all of them are monsters," said Edison into the video camera. "In   
fact, I'm sitting next to one of the so-called 'monsters' right now. She hasn't   
tried to eat me yet." He turned the camera to Gally. "You don't eat people,   
do you, Gally?"  
_____"Edison, who is that girl?" asked Theora. "And why is she wearing that  
costume? It looks like..."   
_____"It's not a costume," interrupted Edison. "I'll explain later. In fact,  
maybe I should let her explain. Gally, can you come over to Network 23 with   
me?"  
_____"She may do so," spoke a new voice. "She has given enough assistance for   
today."   
_____Edison and Gally both looked up the concrete steps. Standing up there,   
at the entrance, was the police chief himself--Police Chief Thunderhorse, head  
of the Metro Cops. The journalist wondered how someone so tall, with a   
gleaming and shiny badge, could just sneak here and not be noticed.   
_____"She may go, if she so pleases. I have paid her for today's assistance.  
And if her help is needed, I know where to contact her." That said, the police  
chief turned and went back into the station.  
_____"Whoa..." went Edison, blinking. "The guy's quiet, but intimidating.   
Looks pretty strong for someone over a hundred years old... So, Gally. Are   
you coming along? Since I tagged along with you back to your place of work,   
you may as do the same to me. I'll show you to my co-workers"  
_____Gally stood on these steps. Why not go? she asked herself. Thinking,   
More information about this city can only add to the knowledge needed in   
pursuing my target.   
_____"I will come along with you," she said. And she stood by as Edison   
called Theora through the camera, summoning another network van.   
---  
_____But, something else was going down elsewhere in the downtown area--over   
at a certain tall building. The topmost executives of Network 66--the Board   
of Directors--were having an impromptu meeting to discuss the testing of their  
latest "resources." Indeed, these were quite innovative resources.   
_____Up in the 93rd story, there was the Board Room--where some of the most   
important decisions of Network 66 were made. It was a long, low-lit room with a  
long marble table. Twelve dark leather seats along the left and right   
of the marble table, where the Members of the Board would sit. The windows at   
the sides were extremely dark-tinted, and the floor was red-carpeted-though   
carpet color was somewhat hard to tell in the gloom.   
_____The lights brightened as the Members of the Board came in, wondering why   
Mr. Grossberg demanded this meeting. The Board of Directors consisted of   
wealthy people--tall, thin people who dressed in expensive clothes.   
_____Ten thin men and four thin women, similarly dressed, came shuffling in   
to sit in their respective seats at the long table. Most of them had red eyes   
and drippy noses from the cocaine, bourbon, and other recreational substances   
they so habitually consumed. They sat easy in their seats of power, waiting   
for Grossberg. Along with them came two men in tuxedos and white gloves--  
two butlers. The butlers were told to dim the lights; narcotics had made the   
Board Members' eyes sensitive.  
_____After some minutes, they saw him come in--the CEO...along with a rather   
odd-looking scientist. It was a contrast--the dark-suited and strong-looking   
CEO walking with the frail-looking white-coated scientist.   
_____"Good afternoon, everyone," said Mr. Grossberg to the people here. "I   
do hope that I haven't interrupted anything... Well, maybe I have." He then   
moved to the head of this long dark table.   
_____In the dim lighting, he was still able to see that most of the Board   
Members were wasted on various recreational substances. No matter; the Board  
Members almost never made really important decisions, anyway. It was Mr.   
Grossberg that did so.   
_____The pale man spread his arms as if to encompass the dimly lit room and  
the people here. "I'm going to skip the preliminaries and let you right in on  
what we, Network 66, have recently acquired. Something that can increase our  
influence in this city significantly..." He lowered his arms, lowered his   
voice as well. "It is something that could even give us power over what   
little public government there is as well."  
_____"WHAT THE FUCK are you gibbering about, Grossberg?" went one of the few  
women here. Like the other Board Members, she was bone-thin and darkly   
dressed--her hair done up in an expensively frizzy hairdo.   
_____She then SLAPPED her skinny hands atop the table before she continued   
talking. "Government? Hah! Politics is the sort of SHIT left for ASSHOLES.   
Because, assholes deal with shit--get it!   
_____"Meanwhile, REAL power is in what the Hell we do: making fucking MONEY!   
With fucking money, we OWN people! Money is where the REAL GOD-DAMN POWER IS!   
I say, fuck politics from the front and back!"  
_____There was a brief but ecstatic round of applause from the table. But they  
quickly went silent when Mr. Grossberg opened his mouth. "Rather crudely put,  
Gretchen. But that is also somewhat old-hat thinking. It's how we've been   
thinking and operating for over a century. But now, consider this..." He put   
his hands in his pockets.   
_____"Like all other corporations, we of Network 66 have concentrated on   
nothing but making money... Beating network competition... Increasing our   
market share... Etcetera, etcetera. We make gains here, make gains there. And  
our marketing is top-notch--thanks to our R&D department giving us certain,   
heh heh, 'advantages' over the minds of most consumers.  
_____"But for the past fifteen years, where have we REALLY gone? We make   
profits, but that's what every network does. Our only edge is that we're   
willing to take into marketing tactics that our competition wouldn't dare--  
because of ethical concerns for consumer health. Now, it is time for us to   
SEAL our advantage with a more permanent development." He took a slim dark   
remote out of his lapel pocket, then stepped to the left.   
_____Pressing the "play" button on the remote control, part of the upper   
wall slid aside, revealing a flat video screen. The video screen was dark   
at first, then a brief title appeared: Prototype #4 Video Data. There   
was a yellow bar along the bottom of the screen, and a timer in the upper-left   
hand corner. A computerized view...  
...  
_____The title vanished, and the screen flared white for a moment...fading   
into a view of a slum-street: somewhere in the Fringes, a first-person   
perspective. People nearby looked toward the camera's view, staring. Then the   
view dashed forward, toward a group of those people!  
_____Moving fast...! This view closed in on several people who sat slumped   
against a building, some who tried to get up and get away. Then a metal arm  
lashed out from the side of the view, making for a splash of blood. The other  
metal limb came from the other side to GRIP a man's left shoulder, then   
SLAMMED him against the sidewalk.  
_____Then whomever--or whatever--had the camera, dashed to the left and attacked  
two more people. Two silvery hands gripped two human necks, then YANKED.   
The heads came right off! Some blood splashed against the lens, but then the   
view changed to infrared to see through the blood. An evil miasma of colors   
from the deadly scene...  
...  
_____At that point, Mr. Grossberg pressed the "stop" button on the dark remote   
he had--stopping the video on the frame in which the view changed to infrared.   
"Do you want to talk about POWER? Because THAT is power, friends!" declared the   
CEO. He walked to stand in front of the wall-monitor, the infrared view of   
slaughter behind him. "As you all know, money is fleeting and temporary, but   
CAPITAL is how we keep our power. And THIS is the best and newest capital yet!  
_____"What you saw was murder-by-proxy. The camera was actually within the  
left eye of a prototype hybrid between human and machine. Or, should I say,   
'cyborg.' By modifying human brains and placing them within bodies of metal,   
we now have aggressive, strong, and surprisingly inexpensive machines that we   
can produce so long as there are human beings on the streets!"   
_____The Members of the Board were silent. Partially, they were silent because   
they were still wasted from the cocaine and booze they used earlier; but the  
big shocker was from what they saw and heard... Then again, they weren't sure   
WHAT they just heard.  
_____One of the skinny pale men at the dark table spoke up. "Did you just say   
that there is now a way to 'convert' people into machines? Because I'm not sure   
I heard you correctly."  
_____"Heh heh heh..." chuckled Mr. Grossberg, a dark chuckle. "Thanks to the   
man I promoted to head of our R&D, Network 66 now has a means of securing   
more power. That means, prototype cyborgs!"  
_____Another Member of the Board spoke up. "What's a cyborg?" he asked. "I   
still don't understand. Sounds like something out of a horror movie."  
_____"You don't know? Well, let me allow the man of the hour, Dr. Desty   
Nova, give you a brief explanation of what we have... Doctor? Talk to them  
about our wonderful prototype cyborgs."   
_____Dr. Nova was in a darkened corner all this time, sitting in a chair--eating  
flan from a rather large bowl. "Hmm..?" He swallowed, then managed to speak  
more clearly. "If I must speak, I will. Okay!" The metaphysicist stood up,   
bowl of flan in his left hand. He moved over to stand in front of the screen   
while Mr. Grossberg stepped aside, arms akimbo.   
_____"Mmm...delicious! Ahem! For an introduction to cyborgs, let us begin by   
asking ourselves some questions. What is a cyborg? Is it superior to a mere   
machine? And, how may one use them?  
_____"Look at the word itself--cyborg. A CYBORG is, essentially, a   
cybernetically enhanced organism. The description itself forms the word.   
Listen to it: 'CYbernetically enhanced ORGanism.' CY-BORG. GET IT?" He   
took a spoonful of flan.  
_____And he continued. "Mmm...! In common context, cyborgs are human beings   
whose bodies have been extensively augmented--or totally replaced--with   
synthetics. Usually, the entire body is replaced, leaving synthetics to   
provide for a living brain--while the brain, in turn, controls the body.  
_____"THAT is a starting description, a brief introduction, to what cyborgs   
are. Cybernetically enhanced organisms, usually brains in synthetic bodies.  
_____"Now, that leads into something else. With that combination of real mind   
and synthetic body, we have beings that are how cyborgs have TASTY superiority   
to machines. Now, why use real brains instead of artificial ones?  
_____"Why, it is a matter of efficiency! Living 'real' brains are naturally   
complex. Whereas it would take much effort to carefully create a computer   
chip of similar complexity, real brains are easily acquired. I am a living   
example, as proven by the mark on my forehead... See? My brain has been   
replaced by a chip. Though I am physically human, my brain is not real!"   
_____The Members of the Board looked, squinted. Despite drug-blurred vision and   
dim lighting, they were still able to see Dr. Nova's forehead: They saw no mark   
on Dr. Nova's forehead.  
_____"What are you talking about, Nova?" asked Grossberg. "I don't see any  
mark on your forehead. And what's this gibberish about replacing brains with   
computer chips?"  
_____"What? I you mean I DON'T have a mark on my forehead? HOW?" blithered   
Dr. Nova. "Tell me! WHO HAS A MIRROR?"  
_____One of the two butlers, those who stood by the door, approached Dr. Nova.   
The approaching butler took out a small folding mirror from his right pocket   
and held it up for Dr. Nova to see.  
_____By the light from the wall video monitor, Dr. Nova saw that his forehead   
was plain skin. There was no mark. "How can this be? Hmm..." He kept   
looking in the mirror as he took another few spoonfuls of flan. Then, using   
his spoon, he rapped himself in the forehead. His head felt...different! It   
felt full!  
_____Before, whenever he rapped himself in the head, it felt hollow. But he  
hadn't experimentally rapped himself in the head, or looked in a mirror, since   
he was here. Not even when he brushed his teeth with that odd tooth-cleaning   
substance the people of this city used.  
_____"I have a real brain again!" he said. "This is DELICIOUS! Now, everyone   
must excuse me while I go contemplate the implications of such a development!   
Somehow, I once again acquired a real brain during the process of coming to this   
city! Simply... Delicious!"   
_____Then the metaphysicist, bowl of flan in hand, ran towards the double   
doors. One of the butlers over there opened a door to let the ecstatic madman   
out of here.  
_____"Hmm..." went Mr. Grossberg. "As you can see, the latest 'head' of our  
research is somewhat absent-minded...so to speak. His knowledge, though, is   
quite useful and quite stable. Were it not for his input we would not have   
cyborg technology.  
_____"And by developing that technology, we can gain economic as well as   
political power over the people of the city. After testing and developing our   
prototype cyborgs up to viable levels, WE will overthrow the pitiful, minimal   
government of this city. The city will then belong to Network 66 alone! That   
is COMPLETE market penetration! Complete market dominance, as well as dominance   
over all city resources! THAT is power."  
...  
_____Meanwhile, Dr. Nova went back to work on a lower floor, down on the   
Research and Development levels of this skyscraper. Bowl of flan in hand, he   
used the elevator. Rode it down...   
_____The doors opened onto the main R&D floor. Cyborg maintenance equipment   
at the far left of the shiny and ultra-modern room, and the computers were at   
the right. White-coated technicians bustled about. They not only looked busy,   
but they were busy--working on the shiny "caskets" that housed their precious  
prototype cyborgs.   
_____At least, the cyborgs were "prototypes" to them; this was their first   
experience with such technology! And when the technicians' thoughts weren't   
occupied by ideas for technological refinement, they wondered where Nova got   
his knowledge for working cyborg technology. That went along with wondering   
where the man came from, anyway. From another country?  
_____With the technicians refining their still-new cyborgs, Dr. Nova decided   
to check on THE box. Hmm... He wondered where he last put it. THE box was   
so full of potential, and so very important. Where did he last put it? Well  
he would find it eventually.   
...  
_____Network 66 had corporate competition, which was why Mr. Grossberg was so  
obsessed with securing his network's position. There were multiple networks in   
the city, multiple skyscrapers which stood tall. Multiple economic giants.   
But the corporation that caused Network 66 so much burning anger was Network 23--  
a corporate rival which Mr. Grossberg first swore to destroy, before swearing   
to destroy ALL economic competition.  
_____It was no small coincidence that Network 23 was the corporation which   
Edison and Max worked for--with "work" being loosely used regarding Max. With   
Edison Carter's steady tele-journalism and Max Headroom's witty random   
appearances on televisions throughout the city--both in the urban core and in   
the Fringes--Network 23 remained popular among the people. Before Max Headroom,   
there never was a television personality that could appear on single televisions   
as well as on multiple ones. He was the first and only "man" who "lived"   
inside the televisions. And he was only from Network 23.  
_____Like the Network 66 skyscraper, Network 23's headquarters was a towering   
building--but the architecture was somewhat different. There was less glass  
in its construction and more concrete. That made for more structural stability.   
It looked slightly more old-fashioned a building. A more comfortable tower...   
Barely ninety stories tall, it was located on the east side of the downtown   
urban core--the side of town opposite Network 66.   
...  
_____A twenty minute ride, and the red van pulled up to the front of the   
Network 23 skyscraper. The van's side door slid open, and Edison hopped out   
with his video camera on his right arm. Gally lightly dropped by his side.   
_____"Well, here it is, kid," said the tall trenchcoat-wearing tele-journalist.   
"This is my place of work." He nodded to the building. "Let's go. I'll   
show you to my colleagues... Uh, are you okay?"  
_____Gally was looking up...and UP at the building. As it was, she felt   
somewhat conscious of her height--or lack thereof--when around most people.   
But the tall tower of a building made her feel yet more dwarfed. There were   
reasons why tall buildings were called "skyscrapers"; they seemed tall enough   
to stroke the sky itself. "Something wrong? Should I take you back to the 1st   
Precinct? Gally?"  
_____Hearing her name heard, she blinked and shook her head once. "Nothing is   
wrong...." She looked at Edison. "I merely stood in admiration. The building   
is quite tall."  
_____The journalist shrugged. "Hmph... If you say so. Wait until you get   
inside and up. You can get a great view from up there, as well as get to meet   
some of my colleagues."  
...  
_____The two went inside the skyscraper, into the first-floor public lobby.   
It was wide and impressive. The floor was slightly beige marble. At the left   
were small cafe tables, where people in business suits sat around ate and talked   
business. There were some blue-clad security guards here, but not enough to   
intimidate. Three of them were at the semi-circular security desk in front of   
the elevators at the far end. A large network logo was set on the floor, done  
in large blocky yellow characters.  
_____Walking over, Edison showed his ID to the security desk. The blue-clad   
uniformed woman stood up, scanned the card. "Just checking, Mr. Carter," she   
said. Looking down, she said, "Who is the girl?"  
_____"Oh, she's Gally. She's with the Metro Cops," answered the journalist. He   
stood closer to the petite cyborg. "Not only is Gally here involved with a new   
news story, but she's a story herself."  
_____"As you say, Mr. Carter," responded the woman in uniform. She pressed   
keys on a terminal behind the security desk. "The elevator will be here soon."  
Handing back Edison's ID card, she said, "Have a productive day."  
_____One of the elevators went "ding" when it came down to this floor and opened   
up. Edison and Gally went in, and twin silvery doors slid closed. The elevator   
began moving. As the building was so tall, this elevator accelerated a bit in   
moving to the fiftieth floor.  
...  
_____Arriving at the destination floor, the elevator doors opened up. And   
here was a modern and thoroughly busy news room. Lots of wooden cubicles here,   
each with a professional seated at a desk-and-computer setup. Though the   
professionals here were busy, there was just a moderate amount of background   
bustling sound--computer keys clicking and people talking into microphones or  
headsets. Every so often, a man or woman in business dress would walk over   
to one of the people in the wooden cubicles and say some things.  
_____"THIS is where I work...sort of," said Edison to the cyborg-girl. "Well,   
I don't really work HERE, physically, but my controller does. My work is out   
on the streets. Journalists work the streets, and controllers help us from   
news rooms--like here. Now follow me. I'll bet Theora is anxious for me to   
get back to her."   
_____The controllers? In a "control center?" As Gally followed Edison's tall   
loping stride, she also took glances at the cubicles they passed. Where she   
came from, "controllers" were people who oversaw the actions of cyborg-agents   
who had communications links implanted into them.   
_____But here, controllers oversaw journalists--and the communications links   
were in cameras. This city truly had odd customs and ways: another reminder   
that this city was a place different from where she was from.   
_____In a moment, she and Edison arrived at a certain cubicle near the end of   
the newsroom. Seated at this cubicle were two people--a brunette-haired young   
woman in blouse and skirt, and a bespectacled teenage boy in jeans and tee   
shirt. The woman, Theora, swiveled around in her seat to look at Edison--her   
big blue eyes looking up at the tall journalist.   
_____"Edison...!" she said in greeting. Then she looked at Gally. "Oh, I   
see you have brought her along. Hello there."   
_____"Let me introduce you around," said Edison, setting his video camera  
on the cubicle desk, knelt next to Gally. "Gally, meet Theora. She's my   
controller, and pretty good at computers." The woman gave a little wave of   
greeting and a smile.   
_____"And..that's Bryce, boy genius." continued Edison, indicating the teenager.   
"He's one of our best techies...if not the best in the city. One of his   
accomplishments was the making of Max. He's usually at work in a smaller   
cyber-lab located elsewhere in the building, tinkering away at one cyber-project   
or another... Usually, that is."   
_____The teenage boy looked at Gally...then stared. A big-eyed stare that was  
amplified by the glasses he wore. "Hey Bryce," said Edison cautiously, noting   
the interest with which Bryce stared at Gally. "What are you doing here,   
anyway? You're almost never away from those experiments of yours."  
_____"Oh, I wanted to verify the existence of the cyborg," he answered before   
standing up. He was a bit taller than Gally, as so many in this city were   
taller. Perusing, he walked in a slow counterclockwise circle around the petite   
dark-clad cyborg-girl.   
_____"Hmm... Amazing!" he said, glasses glinting. "The articulation of the   
body is just amazing! This looks like an actual cyborg!" He crouched in front   
of her. "Would you take off your outfit? I'd like closer visual inspection of   
your physique, just to absolutely confirm..."   
_____"Bryce!" went Theora. "Don't be so callous! What if I were to approach   
you and ask you to strip nude just to 'confirm' something? That's a person   
you're dealing with, not another piece of computer hardware."  
_____Gally's large, dark-eyed stare met Bryce's blue-eyed bespectacled stare.   
"I am a person," she said, giving a toss of her head to get some lengths of   
hair away from her eyes. "That much, I can be QUITE sure of."  
_____Not only did Bryce hear emotional steel in Gally's voice, but his looking   
at her also affirmed that the girl was metal-bodied--as far as he could tell.   
The lithe teen-age girl (or cyborg?) wore a form-fitting body-suit over her   
distinctly female body, with shin-boots. Her metal-surfaced arms and shoulders   
were bare, metal that went beyond the arms and shoulders. The collar, though,   
covered her neck. But her face and hair looked normal--even beautiful. Simply   
amazing. She was just amazing.  
_____"Oh-ho! Are you in LOVE, Bryce?" commented Edison. "You just met her!   
And she may not be your type."  
_____The boy backed off, a blush flushing his cheeks. "Love? For me to be   
subject to such a biological reaction would be inconvenient. And, it would lead   
to inefficiency."  
_____Gally stepped closer. "You sound horrid, as if your mind has been consumed   
by machinery. Love can be beautiful. It is a part of life, of living. Take   
love as it comes, though it can sometimes lead to pain." Then her eyes took on   
a far-off look, thinking into memories...  
_____Theora spoke up. "Goodness, you two are already midway through a lifetime  
of philosophical discussion! And speaking of efficiency..." She looked up at   
Edison. "Earlier, Bryce and I analyzed some of the video feed you sent,  
from the scene of the trouble in the Fringes. And something is not right. Not  
right at all."  
_____"You sound more worried than usual," began Edison. "People died, but we've   
been at more gruesome stories than this... What's so different about this   
one?"  
_____Theora swiveled around to face this cubicle's computer. She then tapped   
keys on the keyboard, and the main monitor switched on a still image--that of   
a close-up on a covered body. The image shrunk a bit, and computer readouts  
appeared along the top and bottom of the screen. "This is a freeze-frame image   
from the scene."  
_____Gally looked past Bryce, then walked closer. She was there, but did not  
recall any specific body. "There were deaths there," she said. "Lives   
haphazardly lost. And people, such as you, care."  
_____"Well, we do care," said Edison. "Again, it's professional responsibility   
to care."  
_____Theora added, "But you'd best keep some distance on this story. It's   
especially dangerous--ESPECIALLY considering the results of analysis. Bryce   
and I came up with this... Everyone may as well look."  
_____Gally looked at the image on the screen. Geometric lines went over the   
covered body on the screen--forming a polygonal framework over the shape.   
Then, more lines came. It was the computer's result of analysis.   
_____The image faded out, leaving the polygonal framework. Colored panels   
filled in the spaces of the polygonal wireframe on the screen--forming a 3-d  
image. It was a 3-d image of a man's clothed body, with severe gaping wounds   
to the chest and belly.  
_____Bryce explained. "From the extrapolated image data, this is a truly   
mutilated corpse. I mean, the chest and abdominal area were ripped apart!   
From the placement of the wounds, it seems that an especially strong person--   
six-feet tall and maniacally strong--did the damage. Those wounds were done   
by strong segmented digits, strong fingers. As there were so many victims   
with similarly mutilating wounds, there must be more than one murderer   
responsible. There must be more than one maniac, equipped with machine-tools."  
_____Staring at the screen, Gally spoke. "They would not merely be machine-tools.  
The mutilations and deaths must have been caused by cyborgs. More of my kind   
do indeed exist in this city. If so, how could you not know of them?"  
_____"But that's just it," said Edison. "There weren't any real cyborg in this   
city before you. There were just rumors about cyborgs... Just rumors. You   
still seem to be the first cyborg here. And since you're pretty shy of being   
six feet tall, we all know you're not responsible for what happened. So  
maybe... Just maybe, you're right: There are cyborgs here in the city, and   
we just never knew about them."   
_____Theora looked away from the screen, her eyes looking out at other cubicles  
in this room. This was all troubling news. She wondered if other controllers  
knew about this.  
...  
_____Back at Network 66, across town, Dr. Nova puttered around the busy cyber-  
lab of the R&D department. Where did he put that oh-so-odd object? THE box?   
Perhaps, something which had immense metaphysical importance?  
_____Wondering and wandering, he set down his big bowl of flan. And then he   
momentarily forgot his taste for flan... He remembered where the box was!   
_____This gray-haired metaphysicist then reached into his left pocket and   
took out a red-colored cube--which expanded when he took it out, growing back   
to full size. The box again showed its shape-shifting capabilities.  
_____What the...? A random blast of air knocked it out of Dr. Nova's hands.   
When it hit the floor, it's top tumbled open--revealing deep darkness inside.   
Inside the box was a darkness deeper than the darkness of the universe itself.   
Dr. Nova YELLED as he saw and felt that darkness closing over him, falling!   
Falling...!   
...  
_____Wind blew through the streets. The Kindly Old Man ran along a downtown   
street, a frightened look on his face. He ran breeze-fast, faster than one   
would expect for his age. Ran faster than human. "OH NO! OH NO!" he howled,   
running along. "NO-O-O...!" Then he began flapping his arms. Still howling,   
"NO-O-O-O...!"   
...  
_____Gally's eyes widened in shock, and she gasped once. Then she vanished.   
It was that simple: she simply disappeared. The petite cyborg-girl was there,   
in the news room of Network 23, and then she wasn't. It was as if the outside   
breeze took her away. 


	4. Another Town

The Other Box: Chapter 4 (by Elliot Bowers)  
...  
Another Town  
...  
_____This happened before. It even felt the same as it did before, when she  
first saw Dr. Nova open THE box. This time, though, she was nowhere close to   
the scientist and that accursed object. But something was happening again--  
because Dr. Nova must have triggered the transition process again.  
_____Now she felt herself falling through a dark and unknown sky--darkness   
above and darkness below. There was nothing around, and she could not see up   
or down. But she knew she was falling as she felt the wind in passing, felt   
herself going straight down, very fast... Very fast! Falling into darkness   
at an unbelievably swift pace. Gally expected to be absolutely destroyed when  
she hit the ground.   
_____She fell for moments yet, hurtling without any idea about where the   
ground was. Then... She HIT something--and was knocked out.  
...  
_____She was alive. Taking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes to center   
herself. It was a basic relaxation technique--eased breathing and putting  
oneself at peace.  
_____And there were rhythmic, wet sounds. A steady squnch-squnch-squnch-squnch....   
The sound of someone chewing gum. "Hey Gally?" came a woman's voice. "You   
feeling alright, doll? C'mon... Arnold's food isn't THAT bad. Or did the   
doc's operation make you kinda allergic to some kinds of chow?" Squnch-squnch-  
squnch-squnch...  
_____Eyes slowly opening, she looked at wherever she was now. Was this back  
in the nameless city? Or, was this back in Scrap Iron City? No, she felt  
that she was in neither of those.   
_____With sunlight coming in from the window at the right, she looked around.   
This seemed to be an eating establishment--a diner. There were several white   
formica tables at the right side, with wooden chairs at each. The floor was   
hard, shiny and clean. At the left wall was a pinball machine and a   
jukebox... Somehow, she knew this place: This was an eatery called "Arnold's   
Diner."  
_____But... She did not know HOW she knew this; Gally was never here before.   
And how did she know what a "jukebox" was? Further, how is it that she had   
memories of this odd place at all--if she was never here before? Searching   
her mind, Gally felt sick and unstable as unfamiliar new memories came to her   
in a rush--as if an undiscovered part of her mind was...UNLOCKED.  
_____"You don't look so good..." said the voice from Gally's left--the  
waitress. According to her nametag, her name was Angela. She was a thin,   
brown-haired high-school girl who worked here part-time to help her uncle.   
Gally also "knew" that her uncle was Arnold, the owner of this diner. "Let's   
get you to the ladies' room. And don't forget your letter."  
_____Gally tried to answer, but found that her throat did not work. How odd.  
Then again, this was all oddness.  
_____The waitress took her by the left hand, and she managed to get up--feeling   
her mind go blurry and unstable. But before going from the table, she took   
the up the folded piece of paper Angela referred to. The letter.  
_____"Jeez, I forgot how small you are!" said the waitress, glancing down at  
Gally. "You Jap girls don't grow too tall, do ya? But then again, because   
of doc's operation, I suppose you won't be growing anymore... Sorry."  
_____For just a moment, Gally did not know what the waitress meant. But,  
then a memory told her that "Jap" was a derogatory term for a Japanese person.   
As for the "operation," Gally's odd new memories failed to tell her about that.   
But she suspected she would soon find out...  
_____The doors to the bathrooms were at the left side of the diner, next to   
the pinball machines. Gally was led into the "ladies' room," and then over   
to a small sink-and-mirror setup.   
_____She felt her dizziness lessening as she was led over to the faucets.   
"Are you gonna toss your cookies, kiddo? 'Cause if ya are, the toilets are   
right here." Gally shook her head once, instantly regretted doing so--shaking   
one's head while feeling dizzy is NOT good.  
_____KNOCK KNOCK... A man's voice outside the door asked, "Hey, is Gally   
alright in there? Maybe I ought to call the doc. Or was it something I   
cooked?"   
_____"Nah... Just call her folks, Arnie!" answered the waitress. "Least,   
call her Mom." Speaking lower, she spoke to Gally. Said, "Let's try   
splashing some water on your pretty face."  
_____On came the faucet, sparkling water pouring out. Gally put her pale,   
seemingly delicate hands in the stream of cool water. She then lightly splashed   
water on her face. Wait... PALE hands? What was wrong with her hands?  
_____"Here's some tissue paper, sweetie," said the waitress, getting some   
from a small dispenser next to the mirror. Gally accepted the sheets of   
tissue paper and wiped her face before looking in the mirror.   
_____The bathroom mirror was at head level to the petite female. From the   
reflection, her own face looked back: the same dark-eyed stare, the same pert   
nose and small pouty mouth. Straight dark hair radiated from her scalp and   
framed her young face. A slender neck.  
_____She looked down at the rest of herself. Her white blouse had a sailor-  
style black collar--her blouse flowing over her slim torso and was neatly  
tucked into the waistband of her black pleated skirt. The skirt felt like   
silk, flowed to knee-length over her smooth legs. She had on black shoes   
as well, with white socks. Her small black purse was suspended by a thin   
strap over her left shoulder. And she was holding the tissue paper in her   
fine, dollish hands--with skin and fingernails.  
_____She knew that, even beneath her clothes, she had skin. Smooth, cream-toned   
skin all over. Not metal hands, not a metal body.   
_____The "doc's" operation, the one Angela mentioned, must have done this to   
her. "Hey there," said the waitress. "Are ya gonna be alright? I've got to   
get back to work. Customers... Ya know how it is. Well, stay in here until   
ya feel better."   
_____Gally turned her head. Stared at Angela. "What? I say something   
wrong?"  
_____Standing in here... Thinking... Though the rest of her memories were   
questionable, Gally remembered that she was at a table when she first came here.   
So, she must have eaten something--and had to pay. She opened her purse and   
found money--nine paper dollars. That, and her purse contained several black   
pens and a white notepad.   
_____She was unsure of how much she owed the waitress. According to her   
memories of here, nine of these strange dollars was a lot of pocket money.   
She took out two dollars...   
_____"Golly! Two dollars!" exclaimed the waitress. "You really MUST be feeling   
sick, kid! You already paid AND tipped!" She patted Gally on the head.   
"Gotta go. See ya later!" she said before leaving the bathroom.   
_____Uncounted minutes later, the swirling dizziness completely faded from   
her head. She was able to see more clearly, and she felt fine. In fact, she  
felt a bit giddy. This was a normal-looking body! A human-looking body!   
_____Now alone in this bathroom, Gally ignored the odd giddiness she felt.   
This body felt so light and able! And she could FEEL more: the feelings   
of clothes on her skin, the water from the faucet on her fingertips, the soft  
tissue paper brushed on her neck. This all felt REAL. Now, about the letter.  
_____The letter she had with her had been tucked into the side of the mirror  
by Angela. Going over to the small trashbin to throw away the tissue paper,   
Gally came back to the mirror and took the letter--unfolded it.   
_____It was a letter written in English, letters in sharp and somewhat agitated  
strokes. With English writing, there is more tolerance with how one writes;   
Gally preferred Kanji characters as one's handwriting always had to conform to   
neatness. Yet, this letter was legible, written in very small and neat   
letters. She read it:  
....  
_____To The Hunter:  
  
_____If you read this letter, then you must have certainly   
followed me into this next place. Because of the transition  
process, you may or may not recall your original self. But   
I myself have arrived here--intact and with full use of my   
mind and body. In fact, I feel quite elated! This is all   
quite a delicious experiment, is it not?  
_____By the time you feel coherent enough to read this letter,   
you must also be aware of your new physical state. Do not be   
alarmed: You are not as physically frail as a real-bodied   
human being. Yes, you remain a cyborg. However, in place of   
alloyed armor and electromechanics, you have synthetic skin   
and myogel-muscle. Your body now looks and feels somewhat   
biological, yet it is wholly synthetic--the synthetic   
version of your body at age 19.  
______How do I know of this? How is this happening at all?   
The full explanation would take pages of algebraic equations   
(yes, algebra!) that would fill pages and pages, but suffice   
to say that THE box (And you know what box!) has immense   
potential. However, it requires much study. As you now   
experience the results of THE box's usage, you can appreciate   
such knowledge.  
  
--Desty Nova, Ph.D.  
  
...  
_____Gally read the letter twice, small handwriting and all. So, she was   
still herself at heart, a bounty hunter. And, her target was here as well.   
It was he who was responsible for her movement of into this reality. And only   
in meeting him would she be able to... WOOSH!   
_____There was a FLASH of flame and heat, and the letter vanished! A slight   
burning feeling on her fingertips. The letter had somehow vaporized, leaving   
behind a smell of burnt paper and sulphur.  
_____A trick of chemistry. But now, she knew her purpose in this place. In   
this next reality. Better yet, she somehow inherited useful "memories" in  
coming to this town. This was the town of Delsea, a small town somewhere   
in the continental Midwest. A town in the country that was still the United   
States.   
_____As for herself, she was supposed to be a young lady of Delsea, soon to   
go to higher education after this summer was done. Strange, as women of   
Delsea seldom go to college. But she was known to be strange, anyway; she was  
the only Japanese girl in this entire town.  
_____She accepted these odd new memories that were now hers--yet not hers--  
and walked out of this bathroom. It was like being more than one person, or   
inhabiting another person's mind. But she was still herself, still with a  
task to do. To linger and wonder for too long about her new situation would   
be wasteful.   
...  
_____Outside of the bathroom, she saw that some more customers had come into   
the diner. They were teenagers, generally: older boys and girls. The boys   
wore leather jackets over white tee-shirts, with jeans and boots--hair   
slicked back. The girls dressed themselves in blouses and long skirts,   
"bobby" socks and neat shoes on their feet--carefree hairstyles. The   
jukebox-machine was playing a song with a steady light beat and a sad-wailing   
male singer, guitars in the background. Angela was going to and from the food  
counter, getting food from the cook and over to the customers. She waved   
once to Gally before continuing her work.  
_____Two neatly dressed adults walked into the diner--man and woman. The   
woman had come in first, wearing a simple blue dress and a bit much makeup.   
She was followed by the man who opened the door for her--a man in a brown   
business suit and tie, his fedora hat in hand.   
_____According to Gally's semi-real "memories," those were her "parents."  
Adopted parents, actually. They cared for her as if she were their own   
biological child. Her odd memories told her this about them, and more.  
_____The "parents" came quickly over here, and the "Father" knelt by Gally's   
side. "Thank God you're fine!" he said. "Arnold called, and we came right  
over! We can't have our little girl being sick, can we? Especially since the   
doctor gave you that life-saving body-replacement operation! A modern medical   
genius, that doctor!"  
_____"Mother" came closer and went to both knees, smelling of light perfume.  
She put a hand on Gally's forehead, then kissed her there. "Dear, we love   
you, and we don't want to lose you." She gave a quick hug.  
_____Gally looked around, expected other teenagers in this diner to give her   
silly looks. But they did not; they continued talking and eating at the tables  
over there.   
_____"We should get her home, honey," said "Father." "I tried calling the  
doc, but the nurse said he was busy. And we can't take Gally to ordinary   
hospitals. She's different now."   
_____"You're right, dear," went "Mother," speaking to "Father." "I know just   
the thing to do until we can contact the doctor! Some nice warm milk and   
vitamins, and she'll be right as rain. What do you say to that, darling?"   
_____Released from the woman's hug, Gally tried to talk again--but still failed.   
She put the fingers of her right hand to her own throat, shook her head once.   
Perhaps, that was why there was a notebook and pen in her purse?  
_____The Mother-person looked sadly at Gally while the Father-person spoke.   
He said, "It's a weekend afternoon, but Doc Nova said he was always ready.   
Glad he doesn't play golf. Come along, I don't want the car to take up the   
space of paying customers!"   
_____And so, Gally followed these two unbelievingly friendly people out of the   
diner. To her, they were immensely kind--almost too kind and caring. They   
were like simplistic characters from history texts and ancient television  
archives. But something was different; something was not right. In felt,   
something felt not-right about ALL of this.  
_____They left the diner and went to the front. Out here was a shop-lined   
street in the light of a clear afternoon. Lots of small businesses around   
here. Above, telephone and electric lines were suspended on brown poles. And   
the sidewalk was neat, free of cracks and swept clean. A breeze blew by,   
making Gally's skirt and hair flutter. She felt the wind on her skin--her   
realistic skin. And she felt a slight oddness in the air.  
_____Maybe, it was part of becoming spiritually adjusted to this body...? No,  
that was not it. That was not it at all. As she and her "parents" walked  
along the sidewalk and over to an old-style car, the synthetic-bodied girl   
felt still felt that something was amiss.  
_____It was a feeling that stayed with her the entire drive back "home."   
"Father" drove the car with hat on while "Mother" sat by his side. Both   
"parents" wore smiles and chattered lightly, sounding shallow in their bright   
perkiness. Their odd happiness only made her feel a bit more sickened.  
...  
_____The ride "home" took them through the downtown scenery of Delsea. The   
heart of this town consisted of small shops, some small office buildings, and   
one large factory structure--run by General Electric. The heart of town was   
where most people of Delsea worked. Beyond that, there were the outlying   
residential areas--where people lived.   
_____And the residential areas were ideal, suburban. Neat residential streets,   
with houses among well-kept front yards. And there were trees. Lots of trees   
were there were not houses. Gally seldom saw so much plantlife where she came   
from... A land were the environment has been altered by centuries of industrial  
development, pollution, and one big near-apocalyptal war.   
_____No... She should be concerned with where she was now. She should focus  
on here and now. As she rode with the parents in this old-style car, Gally   
searched her new memories--like looking through albums. Thinking... Thinking   
of where she was now and her larger presumed role in this town.  
_____According to the memories in her mind, this indeed was Delsea--a small,   
well-to-do American town that was as well off as it looked. Extremely ideal.   
Fine, she knew that. But what else did her memories have to say?  
_____Though newspaper and radio broadcasts said that crimes and troubles   
happened elsewhere, nothing bad seemed to happen here. Everyone knew each   
other, families were stable with two children each, and everyone here was   
financially well-off. People lived in small suburban homes while fathers   
worked in the downtown area. And, overall, everyone felt complacent and   
satisfied.   
_____But, something was wrong with this town. Something that her new-found   
memories did not tell her. Nor, was it something that the radio or local   
newspaper journalists would report. She was not sure what...  
_____Hands on her skirt-covered lap, Gally sighed and looked out the right-side   
window. As this car passed by houses, kids playing outside, she still had   
THAT feeling--the feeling of slight unease. She had a deeper role in whatever   
force was causing that feeling. Dr. Nova... He was connected to it as well.   
Oh, Dr. Nova was ESPECIALLY connected.  
_____Her slight eyebrows bent in anger as she thought of the one her parents  
knew as "Doc" Nova. She thought that the metaphysicist was irresponsible in   
fumbling about with that box. With most every other fugitive Gally had handled,   
she attacked and killed for the simple sake of improving her skills--which was   
also improvement of herself. She was a bounty hunter, a skilled professional;   
she did not judge the criminals she killed. But in this instance, she did!   
She judged Nova! Dr. Nova was mad to fool about with the very fabric of time   
and space itself! How dare he!  
_____"Don't frown, dear!" came the Mother's comment from a front seat. She was   
looking at Gally through a mirror that folds down from the car ceiling.   
"Frowning makes your pretty face not look so nice! Then it'll get stuck like  
that!"   
_____The Father chuckled. "I don't think we have to worry about that, dear.   
If her face gets messed up, we can just send her over to doc's and have it  
repaired! Like a damaged radio set!"   
_____"Dear!" exclaimed the Mother. "You sound TERRIBLE! Talking about our   
daughter as if she were some kind of...toy! The doctor said that just her body   
was replaced, not her mind too!"  
_____"Well gosh, honey! I know that!" said the Father. "Technology is wonderful.  
We've got televisions, rocket ships, great big electronic computers, and   
plastics... Hah, hah! No wonder the doc was able to start replacing people's   
bodies with synthetics. Maybe soon, we can start replacing BRAINS with gadgets!"  
_____The Mother gasped, put her hands to her cheeks. "How could you THINK of   
something so terrible! We would be space-monsters if we lost our brains!"   
_____"Hah hah..." chuckled the Father, taking a hand off the steering wheel  
to pat Mother on a knee. "I'm just kidding you, honey. But I'm sure if brains   
were replaced with machine-gadgets, it would be for the sake of human progress!"  
_____Gally heard the banter from the back seat, wondering about what was said.  
To have one's brain replaced with something synthetic, that was not perfect  
"progress." If her brain were removed and replaced, then there would be   
nothing of her original self left here. As it was now, only her brain was   
originally hers.   
...  
_____Soon enough, driving through several suburban streets, Father pulled the  
car up to one of several quaint houses. A small but very typical house of   
this town, this was a two-story home with a neat front yard and a white picket   
fence. Extremely ideal, as was all of this town.  
_____"We're home!" chuckled Father. "Now, while I call Doc Nova, you can see  
if some warm cow juice is just what Gally needs." He then got out of the car   
and moved over to the passenger side, opening the door for the Mother.   
_____Gally found the door handle to let herself out of the car, nearly stumbled   
when she forgot about the lightness of this synth-flesh body of hers. It had   
most of the strength of a metal-type cyborg body, but the easiness of movement   
needed some getting used to. And with just a gentle shove, she nearly slammed   
the car door: Though lithe of body, she still had significant strength.  
_____As Gally's adopted parents went to the house, she set her feet apart  
and raised her fists. She tried a few quick two-knuckle strikes, the punches  
cutting blade-quick through the air. Indeed, this synthetic body had artificially   
high speed and strength while looking and feeling human. But, she suspected   
that cuts from a blade could easily damage her.  
_____"GAL-LY!" came the Mother's call from the front door of the house. "Come  
in before you become more sick!"  
_____Gally would have liked to stay out and test the limits of this synth-flesh  
body, but she decided to cooperate and comply. Indeed, in time, she would   
be able to coerce "Doc" Nova into undoing what he was doing. And then she   
would have his head.  
...  
_____She walked up to the house and beyond the front stoop. The inside was   
neater than the outside. The comfortable living room was spotlessly clean.   
A shiny floor, made of polished wood--with a mid-sized carpet in the middle.  
The clean, neat sofa was flanked by two armchairs. There was a large, boxy   
television with a fifteen-inch screen. A radio was in the corner.   
_____"Close the door and lie down on the sofa, sweetie. I'll get some warm  
milk and vitamins. I don't know too much about synthetic bellies, but a little  
milk always helps." The adopted Mother then went into the kitchen.  
_____Gally closed the front door and took off her shoes. She stepped lightly  
across the living room floor to lie down on the sofa, knees together and her  
small purse resting across her flat stomach. Resting her dark-haired head on   
a cushion, she looked at the ceiling.   
_____Mother came back from the kitchen with two glasses and a bottle--one   
glass was filled with milk, the other filled with water, and the bottle was   
filled with vitamin pills. All of that was balanced atop a fold-up tray-stand.   
"Here you are, dear! Warm milk, water, and vitamins! Now sit up."   
_____Gally sat up on the sofa while her adopted Mother set the tray down. But   
the synthetic-bodied girl was girl was also sure to take a notepad and pen from   
her small black purse. With notepad held in her left hand, she wrote out a   
question in English: What do you know of Dr. Nova beyond his medical   
profession?  
_____"Why, you know the doctor! He's one of the very best!" answered the   
Mother-person. "I think he graduated from the university that Albert   
Einstein is at. Oh, what was the name of that school? Harvard? Rutgers? Oh  
well...! Whatever school he went to, he is brilliant! Now, drink your milk   
before it cools."   
_____After giving a quick glare to the woman, Gally took the glass of milk   
from the tray-stand. She felt the warmth of the liquid through the glass.   
Bringing the glass to her lips, she swallowed--nearly gagged.  
_____"Don't gulp it!" said Mother, patting Gally on the upper back. "We don't   
want it going down the wrong way...!" She opened the plastic bottle and shook   
out three beige-colored pills. "Now take your vitamins, dear. These are good   
for you! And here is water..."  
_____Gally again took up notepad and pen to write up another question. Turning  
to a fresh page, she wrote: Why is it that I cannot speak?   
_____And she held it up for the woman to read. "Don't be silly, child! You   
know why! Doctor Nova said that your voice still needed fixing up. But   
remember the saying, 'Children are best seen and not heard!'" Then she   
patted Gally on the head. "Being silent will help build character. Now take   
your vitamins..."  
_____Annoyed, Gally put her pen and notepad away again into her small black  
purse. She took the three vitamin pills--which tasted like dry lumps of   
sugared rust--and swallowed them with much help from a gulp of water. To   
think, a bounty hunter of her caliber was being...infantilized! For just a   
moment, she thought of slaying both inhabitants of this house; this was not   
her reality, anyway!   
_____The Father came into the living room, still dressed in that brown business   
suit of his. "I just called Dr. Nova. He said that he'd be really happy to   
see Gally in half an hour, over at his office. Gosh, he's a SWELL guy--and   
brilliant!"   
_____"How nice!" went the Mother. "How about that, dearie! Isn't that just  
nice?" She smiled at Gally. In turn, Gally put on a big silly smile. It was  
a smile as real as the rest of her.   
____The Father walked over to stand next to the Mother. "Aww, look at that   
smile! Isn't she just a DOLL? I think her smile looks prettier now after   
that body-replacement operation."  
...  
_____Ten minutes later, the Father-person drove Gally over to Doc Nova's small   
office--which was back in the downtown area of Delsea. "Father" said he hated   
being late for anything, so he and Gally were to leave ahead of time. "Mother"  
waved from the front door when the car went out of the driveway.  
_____This time, Gally was able to sit in the front passenger seat for the drive. All the   
way there, the adopted Father whistled a light and uppity tune--occasionally   
flashing his Mickey Mouse-looking smile at Gally. She felt ever-so-slightly   
sickened by the strange man's prolonged smiling and eternally upbeat expression.  
That, as Gally herself felt anger burning toward "Doc" Nova.   
_____This car passed out of the residential suburbs and into downtown--lighter   
traffic. "Almost there! How are you feeling, my little lady?" asked the man,  
still smiling away.   
_____Of course, Gally could not answer back with words. The voice synthesizer   
of this synthetic body still malfunctioned. But she answered with a smile...  
A dark smile.  
_____They later arrived on a certain downtown street. The car pulled into a   
small general-purpose parking, and Father skipped out of the vehicle. Walking   
with steps as light and happy as a Fred Astaire, the man opened the car door   
on the front passenger side--letting Gally out of the car and onto the sidewalk.   
From here, it was a short walk over to the small medical office.   
_____A plaque on the medical office door read: Dr. Desty Nova, Ph.D.--Family   
Physician. Father looked at the plaque, checked his watch. "Bingo!" he   
exclaimed, before turning the knob and opening the door. "Let's hop to it,   
Gally-girl!" he said. And Gally supressed an urge to eviscerate the big silly   
man with the next sharp object there was handy.  
...  
_____They came into a small waiting room area--the wall done in oak paneling,  
the floor carpeted. At one wall was a reception window, behind which sat a   
plain-looking thin nurse with a bit too much lipstick. Her skin was almost as  
white as her uniform, making her red lipstick seem even more sanguine.  
_____"You're right on time," she said, looking up from the appointment roster.   
"I was just here, catching up on some light work. Well, the doctor will see  
little Gally right away. The equipment is ready." She got up from her   
stool behind the reception window, walked to the right.  
_____She had opened the door leading out of the waiting room, then held out   
her hand for Gally to take. For the sake of appearances, Gally took the   
nurse's hand. "You're still the cutest thing around!" said the nurse. "You'll   
have a husband before you know it!"  
_____The Father person chuckled. "Ha ha... Well, let's hope that's not TOO   
soon!" He bent over as so his eyes were level with Gally's. Said, "Don't you   
worry, darling. I'll be waiting right here!"   
_____Gally was then led away by the pale smiling nurse, led down this short   
hall. Oh yes, she would behave herself. Most certainly, she WOULD! She   
would behave...in a way BEFITTING A BOUNTY HUNTER! Ha ha ha ha...!  
_____The nurse knocked on a door at the end of the short hallway. "Doctor Nova,   
your favorite little patient is here! The one who underwent the experimental  
procedure."  
_____His voice came from beyond the door. "Mmm... Yes, please! Do bring   
her in," he said. "I have been ready and waiting for our little subject.   
Mm... Delicious! Mmm..." Apparently, the man was eating something in there.  
And if Gally's suspicions were correct, he was eating flan.  
_____With the door opened, Gally stepped into the most low-tech cyber-lab she   
had ever seen; Dr. Nova must have been extensively innovative in setting   
things up. Above were indandescent light bulbs, bright enough to light this   
room well. Along the entire right wall was one massive computer--with   
flashing lights and several small monitors. The wall to the front was occupied  
with a well-lit table--flanked by boxy-looking machines with simple robot-arms.  
At the left wall was Dr. Nova, sitting on a stool; yes, he had a bowl of flan,  
a silvery spoon in one hand.  
_____So there he was, just sitting here, looking like he belonged here all   
along. The middle-aged man was wearing a buttoned white shirt and slacks,   
hard shoes on his feet. His ugly tie had diagonal black-and-white stripes, the   
white matching the rest of his outfit. No flan stains anywhere on his clothes,   
though.  
_____"DELICIOUS! The flan of Delsea is yet MORE tasty than the flan of the  
city!" he said. "It has the taste one would expect from extensive pesticide   
use with some of the ingredients, but it complements the flavor rather than   
detracts from it. Now, I am to treat my patient! A patient who, I may add,   
is looking quite fetching with her realistic-looking synth-flesh body."   
_____Such arrogance! Gally clenched her small fists, her dark eyes on him.   
But she could not speak. Instead, she reached into her small black purse,   
took out her notepad. She wrote in Kanji characters:  
  
_____I give you warning, DOCTOR. Were it not for   
this compromising situation, I would remove your   
head from your body. I am a bounty hunter. You  
are a criminal--a price on your head. You are   
merely alive as so you may return us both to   
Scrap Iron City.  
  
_____Gally tore off the sheet of little notepad paper and handed it to the  
nurse--who gave it to Nova. He read it... Blinking hard, he chuckled   
uncomfortably. But he had a comeback to THAT written statement!  
_____Answered, "Well, I should also give you information regarding YOUR   
situation. The nurse at your side has undergone the very same procedure you   
have in this reality--courtesy of my admittedly limited expertise in cyborg   
technology. However, I saw to it that her synthetic physique posesses more   
power than your current artificial body. Attack me, and you may lose YOUR  
head, instead."  
_____Moving machine-fast, the nurse was suddenly at Nova's side. She lightly   
folded her arms across her slim abdomen, her eyes on Gally's every move and  
breath. Now noticable was the nurse's fingernails: silvery metal.  
_____Feeling more confident, Dr. Nova continued. "Also, it would be a tragedy   
for us both if you were to not cooperate. Even if you were to succeed in   
killing me, I would not be able to continue studying the properties of the   
box, and you could be stranded in this reality. A reality which, I should add,   
has gained a rather intriguing and slow-acting endemic.  
_____"Furthermore, you still lack the basic power of speech! Are you so sure   
that all other functions of your synthetic body are present as well? After   
all, I possess more knowledge of your incarnation in this reality than you do.  
Cooperate now, and my nurse and I will repair your voice synthesizer."  
_____Gally turned from Dr. Nova and his synthetic-bodied nurse, looked at the  
door. Dr. Nova was currently in an extremely high bargaining position. It   
was he who could return her to Scrap Iron City through usage of THE box. Also,  
she wondered about the endemic that he mentioned.  
_____Turning around, she nodded once and put away her small notepad. Yes,   
for now, she would cooperate. Doctor Nova would not be marked for death...for   
now.  
...  
_____Restoring Gally's speech took but moments. She lie down atop the metal   
table next to those huge, ancient-looking computers. Doctor Nova took up a   
thin plastic device, which was connected to the big computers by way of a wire.   
"Nurse, hold the patient's head back and open her mouth. This must enter the   
trachea."  
_____The nurse tilted back Gally's head and opened her mouth. She could feel   
the tube, sliding into her throat. It was not thick enough to block her   
airway, but she suppressed the urge to gag.  
_____Doctor Nova, taking his bowl of flan with him, went over to an analog   
keyboard next to the large computer, and began clacking in instructions.   
The computer buzzed and made clicking sounds as relays went to work.  
_____There was a tingling in Gally's throat, and she was ready to tug out the  
device. The nurse saw Gally's hands move, and she shook her head. "Don't do   
that. Be a big girl!" she chided.  
_____The large computer finished clacking, and Dr. Nova checked the small   
video screens. "Ah, it is a simple problem. It is a mere miscalibration of  
synchronization with I/O circuitry. A quick correction..."   
_____Then Gally felt as if her neck were being electrocuted! But she took the   
pain. Pain was part of living. And it was over.  
_____"The recalibration is complete," said Dr. Nova. "Nurse, remove the   
diagnostics probe. Now, let us diagnose her attitude! Say something, Gally.  
Ask a question."  
_____Gally felt glad when the plastic rod-device was pulled from her throat.   
She sat up, knees together. She tried talking... "We do have an agreement,   
for now. However, what is the endemic you mentioned? The one in this reality?"  
_____For once, the nurse's look of easy confidence had flinched. There was   
just a flicker of worry on her face. And, Gally felt that "something-is-not-right"   
feeling again.   
_____Dr. Nova put his bowl of flan down on the counter next to the metal table.  
He then crossed his hands behind his back. "Ah, the endemic? THAT is an   
interesting phenomenon! I know of this because, upon coming into this reality,   
I found myself already established as a medical doctor--somehow."   
_____He shrugged. "The transition also gave me new memories, ones which I   
utilized in my observations. I have observed odd symptoms in certain   
townspeople. Rather gruesome symptoms, I should say. In fact, they are best  
observed rather than explained.   
_____"And to take into such observation, let us go to a place of social   
gathering--a certain eatery. That place has had a large share of endemic   
victims. We will have a higher probability of seeing something there."   
_____At this point, Dr. Nova looked at the nurse. "Nurse, we will tell   
Gally's Father-figure that I am taking her to Lumbario's Pizzaria for, ah...further   
diagnostics. Yes, diagnostics. We will tell him it is all part of testing   
Gally's synthetic body."  
...  
_____The Father-person believed the good doctor. "Okey-dokey, big chief!   
You're the professional. You know what's best for Gally." He put on his  
hat. "I'll just be on my way!" Smiling that big stupid smile, he left the  
synthetic-bodied girl here with Nova and the nurse.  
_____From there, it was a short walk. Walking out of the store-front medical   
office, this was a slightly odd sort of trio going along this downtown sidewalk.   
There they were: a professionally dressed doctor with an ugly tie, a cadaverously   
pale nurse with too much lipstick, and the raven-haired girl with a contemptuous  
look on her pert face. Also odd was how they were the only people outside,  
and the afternoon was dimming into sunset.  
_____Lumbario's Pizzaria was just several blocks' distance from Dr. Nova's   
"medical" office. It was in one-story, red-brick building with a simple   
wooden sign hung above the door. The trio went in...  
_____Inside, the layout was simple. Along the left side were round wooden  
tables, with just a jukebox at the right. There was a long counter at the   
end of the room--behind which several white-clad men with white hats took   
customer orders--especially orders for pizzas.   
_____Though there were no customers visible, the cooks were still busy cooking,  
opening the oven and putting in flattened pizza dough. That, while another   
white-clad pizza-man was standing with his back to the wall. He saw the trio  
come in.   
_____"Hmm..." went Dr. Nova, eyeing the tables at the left--all of them empty.   
All of the tables of this restaurant were empty. "WHERE shall we seat   
ourselves? An excess of choices can be just as troublesome as a lack of   
choices. Don't you believe so, Gally?" He looked to the nurse. "Nurse, take  
our patient to the third table at the left." Then he went over to the counter   
while Gally was firmly guided to that table--the nurse's left hand on her upper   
back.   
_____Over at the counter, Dr. Nova made his order. "Mmm... Lumbario, I order  
a standard pizza--with flan topping along the right half. We will eat it here."   
_____"Flan topping?" went the pizza-man behind the counter, leaning against   
the wall. Then his eyes widened. "Are you SURE? You sure you want...FLAN   
topping on a pizza?"  
_____There was silence. The other pizza-men at work in the cooking area went  
quiet, paused in their work. No one spoke. There was not even the sound of  
car traffic outside.  
_____"Yes, I order FLAN topping because I am THE doctor!" said Dr. Nova. "I   
now order a pizza with flan atop the right half. Again, I say that I am THE  
doctor! Need I repeat my order?"  
_____"Y-y-yes sir!" sputtered the leaning pizza man. "We'll prepare it right  
away! Louis, you heard him. We've gotta get the flan..." And then the   
cooks went to work.  
_____"That took some effort..." said Dr. Nova, coming over to this table and   
sitting next to the nurse. "Now, we shall have our pizza--eventually. Mmm...!   
Flan can be delicious. Especially, the way it is here in Delsea!"  
_____Gally glared at the less-than-serious doctor. "I lack choice at this   
point, Nova. What is to be done here? There are few people here--a lower  
probability of seeing a victim." Dr. Nova interrupted with a shake of his   
head.  
_____"Do not be silly, cyborg-child! You were brought here to see something,   
and you will!" said the doctor. "In fact, without resorting to calculations,  
I feel that something will happen quite soon. Do you not also feel it?"  
_____There was suddenly sounds of commotion from the doorway... Sounds of   
cheering and talking from out there. The door opened, and in came a gaggle   
of potential customers... Eight of them, all of them dressed in the local   
style. But some of the boys had black leather jackets.  
_____From the sounds of happiness and cheering they were making, Gally suspected   
the people must have come back from a sporting event or a celebration. A rather  
noisy event, from which they brought some noise with them. They occupied the   
other two tables here, with some standing around.  
_____Gally felt irritated at the sounds of this massive invasion by loud,   
raucious people... Along with irritation, she also felt IT. IT, the feeling   
that she felt when she first came to Delsea. This time, the feeling was   
stronger. It was so strong that it felt as if her blood-circulating pump was   
sinking in her chest.  
_____She ducked her head ever-so-slightly, not at all enjoying this noise or  
the feeling of unease. One of the newcomers put a coin in the pizzaria   
jukebox--the jukebox then playing a peculiar old-sounding song.  
_____Several people went up to the counter and took simple food orders--hamburgers,  
soda, and pizzas. Or, as they put it, "soda-pop." Being about as loud as the   
jukebox, though not nearly as musical, they came back to their tables.  
_____"BLEAH-H-H...!" went someone--vomiting on the floor. Laughter followed  
right after. Hey look! Someone upchucked! Hah, hah, hah...!  
_____Maybe the group was drunk. Odd, Gally had not smelled it; drunk people  
normally smelled like what they were drinking. There was a THUMP when the sick  
person fell, and another girl laughed.  
_____Gally pivoted halfway around in her seat, looking back. The boy who   
vomited was an athlete-type of person--crew-cut blonde hair, somewhat heavy   
muscular build, and a varsity jacket worn over his tee shirt--a large "6" on   
the back. He was leaning out and away from the table, the vomit on the floor.   
But instead of there being vomit near his feet, there was a patch of black   
shiny oily slime. A shiny substance so black that it swallowed light where it   
didn't reflect it.  
_____Someone in a black leather jacket stood up. "Hey-y-y...! Be COOL,   
everybody!" he said. Addressing the teenager who vomited, the standing one in   
the leather jacket said, "Hey Lester, you know what that means? You've got   
the disease."  
_____"Shut the fuck up, Fonzie!" went the sick boy. He stood up, knocking back  
his chair. "Don't tell me that! I'm sending you to HELL! RIGHT NOW!" Then   
he raised his fists, snarling at that cool guy with the black leather jacket.   
So the fight began.  
...  
_____"Fonzie," stepped away from the table--hands out. "Hey-y-y... Listen to   
me! It's the SICKNESS talkin'. You know?" He stepped over to the sick   
teenager. "If you don't get yourself over to--" THWACK! He swayed back from  
sick Lester's left punch, which landed on the jaw.  
_____He straightened himself out, ran a hand along his dark hair and moved  
his jaw a bit. He somewhat expected the blow. "It's cool... It's cool...   
Just watch." He looked at Lester, who pulled back his right fist again.   
"Nothing to worry about. It's all healthy exercise."  
_____Suddenly, Lester was on his back--in the puddle of the dark oily substance.  
Fonzie's punches were so swift and sudden that almost no one saw them! Gally   
did, though. Her eyes faster than typical people of this town, she saw that   
the one named "Fonzie" seemed an extremely skilled fighter.  
_____"Wuh-h-h..." moaned Lester... Cough! Cough! He then snapped to his   
feet again, a dark snarling look on his face. With a growl, he ran at Fonzie--  
his left fist read to strike!  
_____Fonzie ducked as the blow SWISHED over his head. Then, Lester was knocked  
back when Fonzie's amazingly fast uppercut struck. Some blood splattered   
against the ceiling.  
_____No, wait... That was not blood. It was the same dark, shiny substance  
that Lester had vomited. And, more of the dark shiny substance oozed from   
Lester's split lips. Something was wrong with Lester.  
_____Swaying on his feet, he stepped towards Fonzie--growling. His eyes were  
pools of shadow. His face reddening.  
_____That looked like too much fun! With a grin that seemed to split her   
face, Gally leapt up from her seat. It was time she took into some of the   
local festivities!  
_____She dashed behind Lester, her fists clenched. TH-THUMP! Her two punches  
sank into Lester's lower back. The two strikes were so fast that they almost   
sounded like one.   
_____And the results were amazing. "Argh?" went Lester, his grunt like a   
question. He then began leaning backwards. As he fell, Gally KICKED his feet   
out from under him. She then did a quick cartwheel to get out of the way.   
_____The back of Lester's head made a hard cracking sound when it hit the   
hard floor. He arched his back, making growling sounds and writhing. But he   
could not get up. Then he went unconscious, dark bile oozing from his mouth   
and nose. This fight was over.  
...  
_____"Hey-y-y... Lester was done in by a CHICK!" said Fonzie. "And there's   
only one pint-sized chick in Delsea who can do a guy like that! That would   
be GALLY!" He held up his hands, looking at the other customers. "Let's   
hear it for Gally, huh...?"   
_____There was then the sound of clapping and cheering from those at the   
tables. They whistled, making all sorts of sounds. Not at all concerned for  
fallen Lester, they cheered for the cute little Japanese girl who really knew   
how to fight!   
_____Amidst the cheering and whistling, Fonzie shook Gally's hand. Then he   
gave a sidways nod toward one of the tables--where Dr. Nova and the nurse sat.   
"Look out, Gally-girl!" he said above the clamor. "The pizza's ready!"  
_____With her right hand still in Fonzie's friendly grip, Gally looked at the  
wide, square pizza box atop the table over there. Dr. Nova smiled, his hands   
ready to open up the box and eat some pizza.   
_____One of Gally's false memories told her two important things about pizza.   
ONE, pizzas are not given in boxes when served at Lumbario's Pizzaria--or most  
any other pizzaria. TWO, pizzas are not served in wide flat wooden boxes.   
Smiling, Dr. Nova opened it up.  
_____There was no damned pizza in that box, of course! Instead, there was the   
darkness. It was the deep, infinite darkness that Gally feared. And, it was   
this darkness that closed over her. She felt herself falling again... 


	5. A Metal BeastMan

The Other Box: Chapter 5 (by Elliot Bowers)   
..  
A Metal Beast-Man  
...  
_____Damn him, thought Gally. Damn that madman's soul many times over! When  
the madman opened THE box, the darkness from inside it had taken her in.   
Gally swore and cursed Dr. Nova for what he had done, cursed his name for all  
of this. He was an insane fool to play games with the rules of time and space;   
he was insane to have made THAT box! Then she lost consciousness...   
...  
_____Her eyes opened, and she found herself seated in the same place she saw   
in a dream--the decrepit room. This room was not well-lit, but she could see   
some details. The chair she was in was an old, but sturdy, wooden chair. The   
floor was made of wooden planks. And, peering through the gloom, she could   
see that the paint was peeling from the walls--revealing concrete beneath.   
Yes, she dreamed of being here before, when she slept in Police Chief   
Thunderhorse's office.   
_____This time, there was something different about the room; there were now   
two doors out instead of just one. One door was set in the left wall, and   
the other was set in the right wall. If her memory served her correctly, the  
left-side door was the correct way out.  
_____But, could she trust her memory? When she was in Delsea, her mind was   
infiltrated with false memories particular to that town. And her body had   
betrayed her by changing, becoming something else. As a cyborg, changes in   
one's body was part of living. But an alteration of one's brain, that was a  
more troubling issue. How could Gally trust her own mind, her memory, now?  
_____Then the door on the right side swung opened, pouring out white brightness  
that lit up this room. Gally squinted and swiveled sideways in this chair to   
avoid the glare, but the flaring brightness managed to strike her eyes once,  
anyway, giving her a slight headache. The right-side door then closed, and   
the room sank into gloom again.   
_____Footsteps approached, accompanied by a wheezing sound. Footsteps of   
whoever entered this room.  
_____Clump, clump, clump... The hard-shod footsteps crossed the wooden floor.   
And the wheezing sounds were just as rhythmic. Hah-h-h... Hah-h-h... When   
the footsteps stopped, she could hear the wheezing right in front of where   
she sat.   
_____Since the room's lighting was low again, easy on the eyes, Gally dared  
to stop squinting. She looked up at who approached her, and she saw HIM. It  
was HIM, the Kindly Old Man. He appeared as he usually did: in slacks and   
buttoned shirt, with suspenders worn over shirt and shoulders.   
_____His presence completed the picture: Like the dream she had in Chief   
Thunderhorse's office, the Kindly Old Man was here again. Standing before   
her, his hands in his pockets, his wrinkled old face regarded her.   
_____Could she be sure this was this a dream? Dreams were never this solid.   
Dreams never felt this significant before.  
_____"Hah-h-h..." wheezed the Kindly Old Man. "You have seen trouble, but you  
shall also soon FEEL trouble. Hah-h-h... And, others will know about trouble!"   
_____Gally wanted to ask, What do you mean by that? But, like in Delsea, she  
found that her voice failed her here as well. Unlike Delsea, though, there   
was no explanation forthcoming as to WHY her voice was not working; she simply  
could not speak.  
_____Looking at Gally's face, the Kindly Old Man must have sensed her   
confusion and curiosity. His face took on a look of indignation, and he   
raised a warning finger. "Hah-h-h... SOMETHING IS HAPPENING! Something   
happens in ONE place, then it passes through THE breeze! Hah-h-h... It is   
slow to happen, but IT happens!"  
_____What did he mean by that? This was yet more incoherent gibberish from   
the Kindly Old Man; she was still unable to understand how he spoke. What   
was he talking about? WHAT was happening? Did this have anything to do with   
her transitioning between realities?  
_____As if that were not bad enough, the Kindly Old Man continued his ranting.  
It was yet more gibberish for Gally to try and understand!   
_____"Do you UNDERSTAND why something is happening? Dr. Nova stirs the   
oatmeal. He should leave it alone! That, and he is EATING it. Do you KNOW   
what happens when someone EATS OATMEAL?"  
_____Now, it was Gally's turn to be indignant. She knew perfectly well that  
Dr. Nova ate FLAN, not oatmeal. Nothing the Kindly Old Man said made sense.  
That is, unless...   
_____Inspiration struck. She suddenly understood what the Kindly Old Man was   
doing: He was speaking in metaphors. Things in dreams are metaphors--puzzles   
and mysteries. The Kindly Old Man was a puzzle.  
_____A crafty smile on her face, Gally looked up at the Kindly Old Man. What   
he was saying made a twisted sort of sense: That is, the Kindly Old Man must  
be talking about Dr. Nova's reality-manipulation experiments, his usage of   
THE box. And because of the experiments, there were consequences.  
_____Seeing a look of understanding on Gally's face, the Kindly Old Man smiled.  
"Hah-h-h... You begin to understand! Something happens to the bowls, too!"   
he added. Then he went over to the left-side door, opened it.   
_____Gally turned her head, expecting to be hit with another glare of bright  
light--like the brightness behind the right-side door. But, beyond the left  
door was sheer darkness, and Gally felt herself being taken away through it.  
...  
_____Gally then felt cool wetness pattering on her face, heard the distant sound   
of thunder. It was a cool night-time rainstorm, and she was outside. Blinking,  
she opened her eyes and sat up...on the sidewalk.  
_____Yes, it was night-time now, here in the nameless city. Looking around,   
she saw that she was on a well-kept sidewalk--lit by bright streetlamps and   
indirect illumination from the nearby buildings. As the structures here were   
so well-kept, and there was no trash anywhere to be seen, Gally presumed she   
must be in the downtown area. Some new-looking cars passed by, splashing   
water.   
_____She bent her knees to sit cross-legged on this rainy sidewalk, considering   
her situation. Glancing down at her dark-clad body, the petite cyborg-girl saw   
that she was once again her "original" self--metal-bodied. Putting metal   
fingers to her childlike face, she felt synthetic flesh. Some wet lengths of   
her dark hair got into her eyes....   
_____Stroking aside strands of wet silken hair, she stood up--feeling unsteady.   
Now, where was she? Of course, this was the nameless city. But, where in it   
was she? She looked around, saw well-kept buildings. This was the downtown   
core area.  
_____Knowing that she was here in the wealthy core area was helpful. It would  
be more helpful if she had a reference point...  
_____She looked up and around again, then looked left across the street. There!   
Across the street was one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city. Looking up   
against the rain, she saw the glowing red logo of the corporation--a logo   
perched high atop the building, glowing in the night: Network 23.   
_____It was probably no coincidence that she reappeared near the Network 23   
building. Her recent friend, Edison Carter, worked there. Edison Carter--the   
tele-journalist with an electronic double.   
_____Gally remembered how Edison looked: a tall professional man with the   
strong-looking face. And now, she needed a fresh batch of starting   
information. That, because Dr. Nova always seemed to arrive in places before   
she did. He was probably stirring trouble, and Gally needed updated   
information as soon as possible.   
_____At least, Gally hoped to get information from someone. She looked   
hopefully at the huge Network 23 skyscraper across the street, the tall building  
standing up against the night rainy sky. Was Edison there? Did he remember   
her? As Dr. Nova's box had caused chaos with Gally's memories, she could not   
be sure of anything. Not really...  
_____"G-G-GOOD EVENING, YOUNG LADY!" came a chorus of same-sounding voices  
from behind. Gally stood stock-still, surprised by the voices. "SO YOU'RE   
B-B-BACK IN TOWN! THAT'S GREAT-GREAT-GREAT!"   
_____She turned around, faced the short building behind her: an entertainment   
electronics shop, with a storefront window. In the big window were six   
televisions, stacked behind the glass for display--facing the street. Now,   
all of the televisions showed Max Headroom, that computer-generated man who   
existed through televisions and computer networks.   
_____Gally stepped closer to the televisions, and most of the copied images   
of Max blinked off--all but one of the screens. She spoke to the man in the  
televsion. Said, "Max Headroom, good evening. How is it that you knew where   
to appear, to find me?"   
_____"That's-that's-that's EASY," answered the computer-generated man in the   
television screen. "I can be any-any-anywhere! As televisions in the city  
are equipped with camera-equipped r-r-ratings monitors and microphones, and   
because computer networks are everywhere, I can glance at many p-p-places.   
I'm like a GOD, ex-ex-except that you don't have to worship-worship me to get   
to heaven. Well, a LITTLE worship of me would be n-n-nice."   
_____Leaning closer to the window, face closer to the television with Max, she   
spoke. Asked, "Now what of Edison? Does he remember me? Or, has he   
forgotten? Lost memories?"  
_____The computer-generated man shrugged. "Of course he-he-he does! And,   
of course he hasn't-hasn't-hasn't!" He sighed. "Yes, he DOES remember you.   
No, h-h-he HASN'T forgotten you-you. You've only been gone for about t-two   
weeks. I'm telling you now-NOW-now that he was a bit WORRIED. But don't   
tell him what I've told YOU-YOU-YOU. He doesn't want to look like a sissy,   
caring about lost-lost-lost little kids."   
_____Hearing this, Gally felt fresh hope. She was remembered in this city!   
This also meant that her other new allies in this city must not have forgotten   
about her, either. Now, to get started. "Is Edison indeed over there?" She   
pointed a wet metal finger across the rainy street. "Network 23 headquarters?"   
_____"He's there, he's tired, and he's worried!" answered Max. "Sheesh-sheesh,   
he's working late again, worrying about metal-bodied boogeymen. And worried   
about a certain boogeywoman. Not that you're scary-scary-scary... Y-Y-You're   
a CUTE sort of boogeywoman. Now, cutey, just s-s-skip on over to our BIG   
happy building, and I'll tell Edison to meet you."  
_____Glad for the help, Gally smiled and gave a slight bow. "I thank you for  
your assistance, Max Headroom! You are most helpful. Thank you!" She then   
turned back to the rainy street, looked both ways to avoid the occasional cars,   
hurried across to the Network 23 building.  
_____"Yes, so I am worshipped. I'll be a di-di-diety yet!" said Max before   
disappearing from the third television in the window. All of the televisions  
then went back to showing late-night programs from various networks.  
...  
_____Doing a light jog across the rainy street, avoiding cars, she crossed   
over to the lighted, marble-paved plaza in front of the Network 23 building--  
the rain making the marble look shiny in the florescent lighting. Coming   
closer to the double doors, she barely saw two bulky figures flanking the door:   
security guards. There were very slight "click" sounds as the shadowy figures   
clicked off their gun safeties--aiming their weapons on the cyborg-girl. She   
stopped... A small spotlight came on, brighter than the other lights here.   
_____Just then, the double doors far over there opened. "It's okay, security!"   
said the newcomer. "She's with me!" It was Edison Carter over there at the   
double doors, shouting through the rain. "Come on in, Gally! Max told me you   
were back in town."   
_____The dark-clad security guards pointed their guns downs, stood with   
military rigidity. Gally's large dark eyes on the guards over there, she   
muttered, "And, I give a friendly greeting to you as well, Edison." She went   
the rest of the way across the plaza, half-expecting a paranoid guard to try a  
shot or two at her.  
...  
_____They, the trained and experienced security personnel of Network 23, did   
not fire at her. Inside the skyscraper, Edison led Gally across the wide   
first-floor lobby and past the security desk. It was quiet here, the lunch-shops  
quiet and benches empty: the day's corporate business was done before sunset.   
_____Now it was dark. Most everyone else was home. Gally and Edison rode   
the elevator up to a place just beyond the fiftieth floor.  
...  
_____And they came to a rather spare-looking hallway that extended to the left  
and right for a ways. "Where do we go?" asked Gally, eyeing the empty hall   
"Are we here for a reason?"  
_____"Why ARE we here, indeed?" asked Edison in turn, putting his hands in his  
pockets. He leaned his back against the wall opposite the elevators. "Maybe   
we were put on this earth to just LIVE. But what would be the point in that?   
Plants just live... Well, some of them do. Pollution killed most plant   
species off. Maybe..." He stopped when his eyes met Gally's annoyed stare.   
"I'm just kidding, kid." Taking his hands from his pockets, getting away from   
the wall, he said, "Okay, we're here to talk with Bryce. His research lab is   
on this floor. Come on, I'm sure he'll be glad to see you. I mean that: SEE   
you, if you catch my drift."  
_____Edison then led Gally left of the elevators, through the hall. About   
what Edison said... Gally understood the implication in Edison's tone. But   
she chose to ignore it, refusing to honor the implication with a response.   
The implication that someone in this city of real-bodied people had found her   
attractive was absurd.  
_____Why? Beneath her form-fitting bodysuit, there was not a real female body:   
but a body of metal, a body merely shaped like that belonging to a young woman.   
Metal, not of flesh. Her face was synthetic flesh; her hair was dark silken   
polymer strands: not real, either. Only her brain was real--a lump of living  
think-meat.   
_____If Bryce wanted to SEE her, then it could ultimately come to nothing. She  
could never have sex with the boy, even if she wanted to. The thought alone   
of that began to frustrate her.  
_____Edison soon led Gally to one of several plain-looking doors. From beyond   
it was a steady low humming--the sound of much electronic machinery. Occasionally,   
there was the sound of keyboard keys clacking. Edison then opened the door.  
...  
_____In here was a small, but seemingly well-equipped room. This was a room about   
the size of a janitor's office, seven-by-seven meters in dimensions. But  
there were many waist-high machines here--some of them looking like video   
cameras with extra circuitry attached. At least, the machines were waist-high  
to someone of ordinary height; the cyborg-girl was barely able to see over   
them. Some of the machines seemed to be cyber-machines the size of washing   
machines. Along the walls, there were shelves that went from floor to   
ceiling--dissected computer parts neatly set up.   
_____"Follow me," said Edison, stepping between some of the machines and   
through a small path in here. Gally followed, eyeing some of the odd equipment.  
Some of the machinery was on, little red and green indicator lights flickering.  
_____Beyond the machinery, one end of this small room was actually clear--only  
filled with the glow from three computer monitors at a computer workstation.   
Here was Bryce, regarding items on one computer screen while digitally   
dissected images sat on another screen. The third screen, the one on the left,  
was blank. Whatever he was doing, it seemed extensively intricate; he did not   
seem to notice who walked in.  
_____Edison knelt next to the bespectabled teenager at the computer workstation.   
"Hey Bryce, guess what? Gally's back. She's right here..." He jerked a   
thumb to the right--indicating the dark-haired cyborg-girl. "Aren't you even   
going to say 'hello'?"  
_____The boy typed a few more lines of code, saving his work, then looked to  
his right. He saw her, then smiled. "Hello, Gally." Then his smile faded.   
"WHERE did you go?! It's like you literally vanished from existence! I'm still   
analyzing security video footage to see how you did that vanishing trick. And   
how did you leave the city without being seen at all?" His smile returned.   
"You are amazing, do you know that?"   
_____He was staring. Gally tried to stare back. But she blinked, looked   
away. The stare made her uncomfortable. She was now very conscious of her   
metal physique; she was an oddity compared to the citizens of this city--a  
city still unfamiliar with cyborg technology. There must be over a million   
real-bodied fully human girls in this city. How could the boy look at Gally   
that way?  
_____Patting Bryce on the head, Edison said, "So much for 'inefficient   
biological reactions,' eh Bryce? Why, I DO believe that someone has finally   
found something more attractive than powerful computers."  
_____Cheeks flushing red, the boy blinked a few times and pivoted to face his  
computer screens again. "AHEM! Well...! As you requested, Edison, I analyzed  
the video data from the most recent events in certain sectors of the Fringes.   
I concentrated on date about the so-called 'metal-bodied monsters'. And, no,   
it seems that they are not robots. They must have biological brains."  
_____Gally crossed her solid arms. "As I said before, cyborgs inhabit your   
city. Just perhaps, they are cyborgs who have lost their sanity. Such can   
easily happen due to brain damage."  
_____"Good theory, Gally," answered Bryce, typing on the computer keyboard.  
"And, it seems like a correct theory. The wounds the 'metal-bodied monsters'   
inflict on their victims are sadistic in nature, sometimes psycho-sexual. If   
the metal-bodied monsters were purely robots, computer-minded, then their   
movements would be more efficient. They could, for instance, just do one-hit   
kills. Single attacks to vulnerable parts of the human anatomy. But they don't.  
Look at this, for example." He finished typing another command.  
_____On the main computer screen, one smaller window-image appeared: the image  
of a prototype cyborg on a sidewalk. In its metal-clawed grip was the shoulder   
of a teenage girl--a red-haired waif in street clothing.   
_____Then the image animated. The prototype cyborg took a swipe at the girl's   
midsection, blood flying. Then came another silver-clawed strike--a deeper  
cut. Dying, the girl's eyes closed--body twitching in reflex.   
_____But the cyborg kept cutting away at the body. The girl was dying, but   
the cyborg still continued inflicting horrible wounds. Then, the metal-bodied   
monster SLAMMED the twitching mutilated body to the sidewalk, and the small   
video-window stopped there.  
_____"See what I mean?" said Bryce. "That video data was from one of the very   
few functioning net-cams in the Fringes...from Sector W-2. We just saw the   
thing MUTILATE her to deatn. Why didn't it just break her vertebrae? Or,   
why not poke a hole in the heart? The point is, the cyborgs LIKE to mutilate.   
Hmm..." He mused on his own thoughts. "Maybe it's because they're prototype   
cyborgs. More advanced cyborgs would be much more efficient. And, they would   
be MUCH more intelligent." He glanced at Gally. "I mean, LEAGUES more   
intelligent."   
_____"But that still doesn't explain where they came from," said Edison. "It   
doesn't make sense! Only corporations would have the capital needed to   
develop and manufacture cyborgs. Furthermore, corporations only do things for  
profit. What profit would there be in sending groups of rampaging cyborgs out   
to the Fringes to kill innocents?  
_____"What ALSO doesn't make sense is the cyborg we have here," continued the  
tele-journalist. "Gally, YOU'RE not crazy--and you seem a lot more advanced  
than those prototype things that slaughter people in the Fringes. If the   
technology to make advanced cyborgs exists, then why are you the only advanced  
cyborg around?"  
_____Bryce turned partway from the main computer monitor. Said, "For that   
matter, how is it that such advances in synthetic body technology were made   
in such a short period of time? Last year, working cyborg technology was just   
a rumor. Now, it's starting to appear. Listen, given the current rate of   
cybernetic hardware development, and the previously stifled corporate   
interest in cyborg technology, there should not have been any prototypes for   
at least another fifty years. Something is not right here."  
_____"The answer is simple," said Gally. "My target, Dr. Nova, is likely to   
blame. As it is, a device of his is responsible for me being here--in this   
strange city of yours. I SHALL have his head for what he does!"  
_____Edison stood up and crossed his arms. He would have begun pacing, but   
there was not much room in here. So much room was occupied with cyber-equipment.  
It seemed stifling, but Bryce seemed not to mind.  
_____"Hmm..." began the tall tele-journalist. "Okay, let's put our facts   
together. Wherever you came from, Gally, cyborg technology is already a   
working reality. And now, it seems that someone also from 'wherever' brought   
that technology with him. Now, you say that person is named Dr. Nova? Hmm...  
Never heard that name before anywhere. Bryce, look up the name. Unless this   
'Dr. Nova' is a 'blank,' he should be registered."   
_____Bryce began typing. "I'm on it... Checking the municipal registry." The   
left-side secondary computer screen changed to a secured governmental web-page.   
He entered the name.   
_____Several results appeared. "Dr. Nova, you say? Hmm... Odd, there is   
no one with the family name of 'Nova.' There are a few people named 'Novarro'  
and 'Natalie,' but that's it." Indeed, a small text message said, NO EXACT   
MATCH.  
_____Edison shrugged. "Well, so much for that. This still wouldn't make   
sense: Only people in the Fringes are 'blanks,' and no one in the Fringes  
runs a corporation!" He saw Gally's questioning stare when he said "blanks."   
_____"'Blanks,' you say?" she asked. "What is such a person? An outcast from  
society's system?"  
_____"Well," began Edison, "Sort of. 'Blanks' are people who have had their   
names wiped from every central registry--no offical records of their existence  
exist. They use paper cash since they can't get cred-rods. But things still   
wouldn't make sense. Again, a blank wouldn't have the resources of a   
corporation, unless..."  
_____Gally answered. "Unless, Dr. Nova--as an unregistered person--must now   
be covertly with one of these so-called corporations you speak of. He must   
have bartered his technological knowledge in exchange for something. Likely,   
he probably took flan in payment for sharing his knowledge."   
_____"Flan? You mean, the foreign desert?" asked Edison. "That sounds NUTS!  
But the rest of what you said, it kind of makes sense. So, we could now have   
a real-life 'mad scientist' somewhere in the city, working for a so-far-   
unnamed corporation that is willing to waste money on prototype cyborgs for   
the simple sake of mass murder. Oh, all we have to do now is to find which   
corporation is responsible."   
_____Bryce nodded in agreement, kept to working on the computers. Edison looked  
over there at Bryce's computer screens. "And let's hope that you don't   
disappear in the meanwhile, Gally. We need a cyborg to handle cyborgs. By   
the way, did you check back with the Metro Cops? Did you tell them you're   
back in town?"  
_____"I did not do so," she said. "Was there concern about me from the Metro   
Cops? I should return to apologize for departing without cause or immediate   
explanation. And, perhaps Police Chief Thunderhorse should know that--"   
BEE-BEEP! BEE-BEEP! Gally's words were cut off by a loud alarm that blared   
in this cyber-lab.  
_____Edison had to SHOUT to be heard above the loudness. "THAT'S THE SECURITY   
ALERT! WHAT LEVEL?"  
_____BEE-BEEP! BEE-BEEP...! Bryce looked at the left computer monitor of   
his workstation. He shouted, "IT'S A LEVEL 6 ALERT! THE WORST!" He tapped   
some keys. On the left monitor, there was a security camera view of the   
front plaza. "WOW! LOOK AT THAT!"  
_____Setting metal fingers to her own synth-flesh ears, Gally looked at the   
left monitor. She saw something that looked more at home in Scrap Iron City   
than in this cyborg-lacking city.   
_____The thing displayed on the monitor looked like a bastardized hybridization   
between a construction vehicle and a professional wrestler. Thick metal legs   
powered by hydraulics, a torso with armor plating, and jointed thick metal   
poles for arms--with claws for hands. The head looked small as the body was   
so big. And the metal being was MASSIVE--eight feet tall and at least six feet  
across.  
_____Then, rushing in from the bottom of the screen's view came black-clad   
men--members of Network 23's security, armed with light machine guns. They   
knelt in front of the huge metal-thing and opened fire at close range--aiming   
for the chest.   
_____The metal beast simply gave a massive SWIPE of its left claw-arm, and   
the three security-men were SWACKED aside--trailing blood as they flew away,  
out of the camera's range of vision.   
_____BEE-BEEP! BEE-BEEP...! Despite the apparent danger and the loudness of  
the klaxon, Gally grinned. Her machine-perfect ceramic teeth glinting, and her   
eyes were wide with glee. "THE FIGHT IS MINE!" she shouted. She then did a   
handspring to get over some of this room's equipment--bringing her to the   
door.   
_____Out in the hall, she found the elevator and pressed the DOWN button. The   
elevator came empty; NOBODY wanted to go down to ground level now! That is,   
no one execpt her.   
...  
_____She rode the elevator down to the wide public lobby--and saw more black-  
clad security personnel. At least twenty of them here--athletic-looking men   
and women ready to defend Network 23 headquarters. Some were putting on extra   
kevlar armor, sitting on the marble benches while others stood ready to go   
outside. No one was here but security personnel.  
_____No one paid attention to Gally at first; because she also wore black,   
like the security personnel, the cyborg-girl was not immediately noticed. She   
ran her way over to the double doors--getting out of here.   
_____Outside, it was still raining. The wet plaza was lit as bright as day   
by spotlights mounted from the skyscraper's windows--light that shone through  
the rain. The lights were all focused on the metal beast-man, a massive   
cyborg. And, down here, it looked bigger than eight feet tall. One security   
guard fired at the huge metal-man, and the bullets just PLINKED off of its armor.   
_____A sergeant of Network 23 security raised her left fist in signal. "STOP!  
Hold your fire, Cletus!" she shouted. "GIRL, what are you doing? That thing  
will CRUSH YOU!"  
_____Speaking low, Gally said, "Perhaps..." But her smile went all the more   
wider. Stepping within fifteen meters of the beast, she raised her fists.   
_____Looking at the petite cyborg girl, the massive man of metal tilted back   
his head and GROWLED to the rainy night sky above. It was a GROWL that   
sounded like a cross between a truck engine and a lion. He made a massive   
STOMP in Gally's direction, and the battle began.  
...  
_____Standing to its full eight feet of height, the metal giant pulled back  
its left claw arm. His small black eyes fixed on Gally, anticipating the   
damage it would do to this silly little girl.  
_____Gally dashed toward the enemy, feet pattering on the wet marble surface   
of the plaza. She leapt up and forward, swinging her left fist. THUNK! Her   
fist actually penetrated the abdominal armor, making for a jagged hole. And  
she kept her fist in the metal man's chest.   
_____Arrgh...! The massive metal man used his big right claw-hand to GRIP   
Gally, grabbing her like one would grip a hated doll. The claws closed around  
her shoulders, leaving her legs to wriggle. He then THREW her diagonally   
down...   
_____THUNK! Gally's struck the marble of the plaza with her left shoulder,   
and her neck wrenched to the side--the side of her head just tapping the hard   
wet marble surface. Though the electromechanical strength of her slender neck   
saved her head from a full impact, she was still a bit dazed from the hit.  
_____Giving a shake of her head, she snapped to her feet and whipped herself   
around, ready to face the huge enemy again. This was becoming quite an   
invigorating challenge!  
_____The metal giant pivoted his upper body to face Gally's new direction, the  
hole in his chest now visible. Its rain-wet rubber face showed slight   
puzzlement: Why was this little girl still alive?  
_____Gally stared at the metal giant over there. She did not notice the   
torso ring-joint before. But, because she now knew it was there, she knew   
what to do. And she RAN at the massive metal man.  
_____With another GROW-W-WL, the enemy spread his huge titanium claws and began to   
shambled his big feet so all of him could face the oncoming threat. And the  
threat, the girl, moved quite fast.   
_____Too fast, in fact. She leapt, her left leg lashing out. There was a   
solid THUD as her booted foot STRUCK the joint-ring at the metal giant's   
waist. Something cracked inside.  
_____Landing from the attack, Gally then made a quick dash around the huge   
metal being, managing not to slip on the wet marble surface as she moved. The   
metal giant tried to pivot his upper body around to face Gally... Yes, he   
TRIED.   
_____Instead, there were terrible grinding sounds coming from his waist. His  
rubber face took on a befuddled look as his waist made sparks and noise. The   
jagged hole in his chest began to billow gray smoke. The point was, he could   
not turn his upper body. If the massive metal man wanted to face Gally, it   
had to waddle around. It was now very vulnerable.  
_____With a smile on her lips, Gally moved into action. She leapt and SLAMMED  
her left fist INTO the metal man's big wet armored back. Staying there, she   
then used her right fist--forming another hand-hold. Then came the left fist   
again, making for a higher hole.   
_____In this way, she climbed her way up the metal man's back. She would punch  
one hole, pull herself up, then punch another hole. Punching holes to make   
her own hand-holds as she continued up.   
_____The metal man GROW-W-WLED...! He began to stomp his feet, making for   
cracks in the hard marble plaza surface. He did not like this! And he would  
most certainly NOT like what Gally was going to do next.  
_____She arrived at his shoulders, wet with rainwater. With an agile movement,   
she clamped her solid thighs around the metal neck. Sitting herself astride   
his shoulders. Then she sank two metal fingers into the metal man's eyes.   
_____GROW-W-WL...! The massive metal-man twisted and growled, wriggling and   
shaking. Gally tried to stay on, thoroughly enjoying the sounds of pain from  
the metal man. The metal man's movement soon became so troublesome that   
Gally had to leap off.   
_____But there was still fun to be had from the ground! With the metal giant   
taking swipes around, Gally leapt and struck the chest. She then did so a   
few more times, determined to make the metal giant's chest armor have more   
holes than a sieve!  
_____"GIRL! GET OUT OF THE WAY!" shouted the Network 23 security sergeant.   
Grinning, Gally turned to look back towards the double doors--over where the  
security personnel were. She saw at least fifteen guns pointing in this   
direction. Time to dodge!  
_____But the security personnel were not aiming at her. Running in a sleek   
crouch, the cyborg-girl dashed to the right, away from the metal man. Sparks   
came from his eye-sockets and some smoke was coming from the many holes in his   
back and chest. His insides were so hot that the rain hissed when it fell   
through the holes.  
_____"Alpha and Bravo teams! 12 o'clock, OPEN FIRE!" shouted the security   
sergeant. Then came a cavalcade crackling of machine-gun fire in the plaza.   
Cr-cr-cr-cr-cr..! Bullets flew at the metal giant by the thousands, like   
a steady steel swarm of bees in the cool night air.  
_____Before, the bullets could not get through the armor. But now, there were   
so many holes in the metal giant that the security personnel had no trouble in   
getting shots through. Bullets flew into the chest, bounced around, hitting   
all sorts of electronics and electromechanical systems. And the security   
personnel kept firing: ...Cr-cr-cr-cr...!  
_____The metal man shuddered, being hit so many times inside. Bullets still  
went in, and it staggered. Yet more bullets bounced around its insides. Then  
something inside blew--giving a flash of flame.  
_____"Cease fire!" shouted the security sergeant. The gunfire stopped. The   
metal man staggered, then collapsed to his left knee. Metal arms limp, his   
bullet-torn rubber-faced head hung in defeat. Smoke poured from its back,   
spotlights filtering through the fumes that billowed from the metal man. And   
the rain poured down on the huge broken figure. Defeated... The fight was  
done.  
_____"Spread out!" shouted the security sergeant. Gun forward, she said,   
"Alpha Team! Let's confirm the kill!" Then she and five other security   
personnel ran toward the ruined metal giant. Came to stand within yards of it.   
_____Looking up at it, she shouted, "GOD-DAMN IT! WHO MADE THIS THING?" Her   
men shook their heads, some looking into the holes, some poking the huge thing   
with their guns. They had no answer for the security sergeant.  
_____She then asked, "Where's metal-girl? We owe her some thanks! I never  
saw such a little girl kick ass like THAT before!" The security sergeant then   
ordered her men to fan out and find Gally. But the little fighting girl was   
no longer in the plaza.   
...  
_____Across town, something had happened at the Network 66 building. More   
exactly, something happened in the newly converted cyber lab on the sixtieth   
floor of that building.   
_____Most of this wide lab was in darkness, lights off, except for one light   
on the far left side. The light shone on someone seated in a reclining   
leather seat, a helmet on his head. Standing around him rrounding him were   
six scientists, most of them in casual clothing and lab-coats.   
_____The only scientist wearing a tie was Dr. Nova. And, the only one eating   
here was him, eating yet another bowl of flan. He eyed the man in the leather   
seat, watched for any physical symptoms of malfunction. Nova did not need to   
consult the machine readouts on the helmet; he oversaw the making of the   
whole system and could tell by looking if anything were going wrong.  
_____The business-suited man in the reclining seat began to spasm, flopping   
like a live fish tossed onto a hot skillet, and the scientists rushed close.   
Then he relaxed; the spasming was just a side-effect of being disengaged from   
the system.   
_____"Damn," he grunted. He took the device off his own head. It was Mr.   
Grossberg, forehead somewhat sweaty from being behind that helmet. "She beat   
me! The BITCH!"  
_____Dr. Nova was the first scientist to speak. He stepped into the pool of   
light, then said, "I take it your preliminary strike against a corporate rival   
was unsuccessful? How so? And, how was the experience itself?"  
_____Mr. Grossberg sat up, helmet gripped in his hands, light shining down on  
him. "Yes, I was unsuccessful. But ONLY BECAUSE A DAMNED CYBORG INTERFERED!"   
He hopped off of the seat, stood very close to Nova. Mr. Grossberg was a tall   
man, physically strong, and therefore intimidating. "WHO DESIGNED THAT LITTLE   
BITCH? WHERE DID SHE COME FROM? Why wasn't I TOLD ABOUT HER? Why the HELL  
did she SCREW ME?"  
_____The other scientists quivered quivered when the CEO spoke like that, his  
voice booming throughout the wide, dark lab. Backing off a step himself,   
Dr. Nova smiled nervously. "Oh, then you must have encountered Gally while   
controlling the robot-proxy. If you want to be angry, please do not be angry   
at us... None of us designed her!"  
_____Another scientist spoke up from the darkness outside the pool of light,  
a boyish voice. "Heh heh... Look at it this way, Mr. Grossberg. We're just   
getting started again on humanoid automatons, see. Robots and cyborgs, you   
know? We're resurrecting research on that sort of hardware. Pretty soon,   
we'll be able to design better and BETTER bodies for cyber-beings. That body   
you controlled was the best we could do...last week. We're already working on   
something better."  
_____A third scientist chimed in, a young female voice. "Yeah, yeah! Hee   
hee...!" she giggled. " Just you wait, Mr. Grossberg! We're working on   
something MUCH better for you. It'll be GREAT! You'll be able to get MORE   
power out of what we're working on. We promise! Right, Dr. Nova?"  
_____Straightening his tie, Dr. Nova nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes! Two items,  
in fact. We are at work on ameliorating the bio-electronic interface. Using   
the primative brain-interface hardware available in this city, we are   
fortunate to have reached this level of cyborg technology. That, and the mass   
production facilities have been upgraded."  
_____The CEO looked down at the cyber-helmet gripped in his hands, listened   
to what the scientists said. The helmet was how he was able to control the   
eight-foot metal giant--the one that attacked the Network 23 building, which   
was on the other side of the downtown area. No, he did not just control that   
metal man, he WAS the metal man!  
_____Oh yes, using this remote device, he felt that he WAS a big and powerful   
machine. A powerful being of mighty machinery! He was able to look down on   
those who fired their pitiful little guns at him. That, while he had a bigger weapon   
than all of those security personnel combined: himself! Then SHE came along,   
the dark-haired little cyber-bitch.  
_____"Dumb luck was how she defeated me," said Mr. Grossberg. "However, with   
sheer power, I can break her." He GRIPPED the cyber-helmet. "Oh yes, I will  
certainly break her--along with my rivals!" Though the cyber-helmet casing   
was made of steel, small dimple-dents appeared where Mr. Grossberg's fingers   
pressed. Something was not right about this Network 66 CEO.  
...  
_____After the dark night, morning finally came to the city. The first rays  
of light appeared on the jagged eastern horizon--sunlight shining between   
buildings. First, the eastern skyline was blood red, burning away the darkness  
of the night. Then, the roundness of the bright pale-yellow sun vanquished  
the black, making for the blue of a clear and almost cloudless sky.   
_____Several hours later, here in the downtown area, well-dressed people got   
up from bed and prepared for the day. They washed, ate breakfast in their   
well-furnished apartments, drove their cars to work. Some of them were driven   
to work by taxi cabs, some by chauffeurs.  
_____Gally slowly opened her eyes, then gasped--not daring to move. There  
was a gun barrel pressed against her forehead, ready to fire. "Foolish child,"   
said a man's voice. "Were you not warned about sleeping in alleys?" The   
gun came away. "If not me, then someone else could have just as easily been   
standing over you."  
_____But she was not in an alley now. This was a richly furnished office--one   
with wood paneling on the walls and a carpet under the feet. The desk before   
her was also made of wood, also expensively done. This was the office of   
Police Chief Thunderhorse, in the 1st Precinct of the Metro Cops.  
_____Chief Thunderhorse himself was here, dressed in slacks and white buttoned   
shirt with tie, brown shoes on his feet--a brown that was slightly lighter than   
his swarthy skin-tone. But now, he had a shoulder holster worn over his shirt--  
a holster he now used to hold his revolver.   
_____Holstering his gun, he sat behind his desk. "For days now, girl, I almost   
suspected that you were taken by chop-shop operators or body bank profiteers.   
You vanished from the city for two weeks and three days."   
_____Gally sat up in her swivel seat. "Well, I can care for myself. Last   
evening, after an invigorating battle, I used the credit-rod to purchase  
food bars. Soon after the evening meal, I grew weary. I found an alley nearby,   
here in the downtown area of this city, then slept. Is this area not patrolled   
by the police-people?"  
_____"That said, such a patrol found you! Sleeping in an alley, eyes closed,  
completely vulnerable!" exclaimed Thunderhorse. "Though this is not the   
Fringes, and though this region of the city is cleaner and better-patrolled,   
there are still dangers!" He then spoke more softly. "Still, child, you do   
not know the ways of this city."  
_____Gally's eyes narrowed for an instant when Chief Thunderhorse called her a   
"child." But it was true that she still did not know the ways of this city.   
Perhaps, if a patrol did not find her, she would not have been alive at all.  
_____Leaning back from his grand desk, the police chief continued. Saying, "I   
do not apologize for the way I spoke to you, Gally. Because of the rising   
level of danger in this city, I will not." He unholstered his silvery gun   
and held it up. "The bullets in this weapon have been developed for the   
level of rising danger. Ferro-ceramic rounds jacketed in steel.   
______"Gally, such bullets are somewhat effective against the bodies of the   
psychotic cyborgs that have been used to attack random sectors in this city.   
Yes, somewhat effective. Such is what my officers have told me when they   
used the ferro-ceramic rounds. However, the guns have not been as effective   
as your fighting capability." He holstered his gun again. "But, that is not  
all..." He leaned forward, reached down to open a desk drawer.   
_____Then he raised up what he took from the drawer, put it atop his desk for   
Gally to see. It was a rubber-plugged glass beaker, two-thirds full of a dark   
oily liquid. Though this office was well-lit, the dark substance in the beaker  
seemed to swallow the light that shone on it. Gally recognized that dark   
substance; she saw it several times before.   
_____"Ah," went Chief Thunderhorse, "I see a look of recognition on your face,  
a look darkened slightly with fear. You have encountered this substance more   
than once before, in more than one place."   
_____Gally stared into the darkness of the substance. A deep darkness that   
a person could stare into and get lost in--a bottomless darkness. She had to   
force herself to look away.   
_____"Such is true," she said. "You know that I have been gone from this   
city for the time of two weeks. In truth, I was taken to another land. A   
small town. Do not ask how; I do not fully understand how, myself. But, in   
that town, I came to hear of an endemic--a troubling disease somehow connected   
with that substance."  
_____Thunderhorse nodded. "A disease? Yes, that would make sense... This   
was extracted from the bloodstream of a man who was caught eating human flesh.   
No one knows why: He did not have a history of insanity, nor was he starving.  
He was far from starvation, in fact. He was an executive at Network 40. A   
well-educated, wealthy man--from a high-standing family. Then, he took to   
visiting the Fringes.   
_____"One day, his wife's mother called. She was worried about her daughter,   
as she had not taken her weekly visit. In fact, not only did the mother of   
the man's wife worry about her, but most everyone did--including some   
shopkeepers. You see, she never left the apartment..." Gally gasped, her   
eyes going wide with realization; Chief Thunderhorse did say the husband was   
eating human flesh...   
_____"Yes," continued the police chief, "when we entered his apartment, we knew   
what had happened to his wife. The man was sitting down to lunch..." He   
shrugged. "He tried to attack the detective who had entered his apartment.   
Tried to attack a combat-experienced detective with a gun. When shot, THIS  
foul substance poured from his wounds--not blood.  
_____"By the way, a similar substance was found in the corpse of the tall man   
who attacked your friend Officer Murphy and company. But this substance seems   
more advanced. The substance has a complex chemical composition that keeps   
changing. The lab techs cannot even begin to understand it."  
_____Gally looked at the dark substance in question, the dark substance in the   
plugged beaker atop Chief Thunderhorse's desk. "Something must be happening   
to this city," she said. "That happens as something repeatedly happens to ME.   
I blame someone for all of this. And I will find him." 


	6. Cafe 69

The Other Box: Chapter 6 (by Elliot Bowers)   
...  
Cafe 69  
...  
_____As morning stretched into afternoon, Gally sat on the front stairs of the  
Metro Cops' main headquarters--1st Precinct HQ. For the moment, that was what   
she was going to do--sit and watch the world go by. Time to herself, it was an   
opportunity for her to put her thoughts in order.   
_____It was a sort of slow-moving day, so far. The time was late-morning,   
soon to be afternoon. As kevlar-clad Metro Cops passed the dark-haired cyborg-  
girl on the stairs, they would say "Hi," and wave. Gally sometimes answered   
their greetings, but her mind was--generally--drifting along on thoughts.   
_____Traffic passed by, neat and shiny cars driven along the well-kept city   
street. And the citizens who walked by were well-dressed and happy-looking...   
Satisfied living their lives... People a lot better off than those of the   
Fringes.   
_____It was quite a difference, really. A difference between the citizens of   
the Fringes and the people of the downtown area. Yes, like Scrap Iron City,   
far and away, this nameless city had a steep division between those who lived   
well and who did not: a division between people who lived on the ground and   
those who lived in the floating City of Zalem. But Gally had never been to   
Zalem--not yet, at least. As for living...  
_____She was soon aware of the slight hunger-feeling that told her she needed   
to find some food--or at least sugar, glucose. She had eaten some food-bars   
this morning, but she fought last night; her brain probably needed more food  
to recover from so much though and energy expenditure. Well, she had a bit  
of this city's money to to buy food: It was not much compared to all the   
credits she had stashed back in Scrap Iron City, but it was more than enough   
to eat with.   
_____Standing, she patted her solid left hip--where she had a slight slit-  
pocket in her bodysuit. Yes, she still had the small credit-rod Chief   
Thunderhorse gave her. In fact, there was an extra two-hundred reward for   
saving the people of Network 23 last night.  
_____How did she save Network 23? That spot in her memory was a bright blur,   
though the night was so dark. When she fought, her mind changed. Became   
something else. She LIKED it when her mind blared white like that, during   
fighting, in the midst of blissful brutality! Oh, YES!  
_____But now, there was no fight to be had. She would go buy food. Going   
down the concrete steps, Gally stepped onto the sidewalk. There was a snack  
shop at the southern end of this street. So she walked left and away from   
the station.   
_____Inside that snack shop, she got three those tasty zero-waste food-bars   
made in this city. At the counter, Gally presented her credit-rod to the   
smiling middle-aged shopkeeper--who connected the silvery squat cylinder to   
the cash register for Gally's purchase--twelve credits. He put the bars in a   
bag, smiled, and gave both the credit rod and the bag to Gally.   
_____And, he made no comments regarding Gally's exposed metal arms. The   
shopkeeper knew who--and what--Gally was. Metro Cops who frequented the local   
businesses talked freely about their "new weapon" against the vicious prototype   
cyborgs... Gally, the cyborg-girl!  
_____Out of the shop, credit-rod in her hip-pocket, she walked back up the   
sidewalk--over to the 1st Precinct. A slow blue sky above nice city buildings,   
the wind gently blowing, the day was beautiful. There was no need for haste   
now. So she took her time in getting back to that grand police station.  
_____And she came back to the front concrete steps of the station. There she   
saw a blue-clad man sitting next to where she had sat. A man of moderate   
athletic build--crew-cut hair. It took her a moment to recognize him: Officer  
Murphy!  
_____Well, without all that bulky black kevlar padding and helmet, she barely   
recognized him. He looked so much lighter without that black bulky armor and   
beetle-like helmet. Seeing Gally, the Metro Cop waved...   
...  
_____Sitting down to Murphy's left, the cyborg-girl opened her bag of food   
bars. Solid gray fingers going into the bag, she took one out and unwrapped   
it. She offered a food-bar to Murphy, but he politely refused--a slight shake   
of his head.  
_____"You know what...?" began Officer Murphy. "Everybody around the precinct  
is talking about last night. Hell, EVERY precinct in the city knows about   
what you did... Many of us Metro Cops have relatives who work in corporate  
security platoons, and they told us all about it. AND, the news was on all   
the networks." Gally eyed him. "We're glad you came back when you did."  
_____She chewed and swallowed a mouthful of food-bar. "As for when I returned,  
I had no control. And, I chose to encounter the threat. It was simple to   
defeat him, as Scrap Iron City is inhabited with better-designed cyborgs."  
_____Murphy shrugged and looked across the street--a far-away look in his eyes.   
"You know what? I'd like to know some more about how you live in that place...   
'Scrap Iron City.' I know you're a bounty hunter there, but don't you do   
anything else? Like... For fun?"   
_____Finishing a food-bar, Gally gave an answer. "I have thought of taking up  
other activities, such as being a motorball player. Or, in more painful   
moments, I thought of making music." She looked deeper into Murphy's eyes.   
"But above all, I seek FIGHTS. Fights of challenge. Through such, I gain   
skill and superiority. A gaining of self."  
_____Murphy looked down at her. "Hmmph! Yes, you're a super-fighter,   
especially with that metal body of yours. But..." He spread his hands, palms  
up--a questioning gesture. "Again, isn't there anything ELSE for you? A   
family? Some buddies?" He smiled, then added innuendo to his voice. "Is   
there any 'little friend' you like to be with?"  
_____A look of fire came to Gally's large dark eyes. And Murphy raised his   
hands. "Whoa, whoa...!" he said. "Looks like I hit a sore spot. Sorry   
about that. I don't want to pry."   
_____Slight sadness came to her face, and Gally looked away from the blue-clad  
officer. A breeze blew along this street, playing with the cyborg-girl's   
shimmering dark hair. "For me, fighting is what matters. I have had...close   
relations. But they fall and die. The troubles and darkness of Scrap Iron   
City consume them all, with time."  
_____Gally said that, then the breeze turned into a single powerful gust! It   
almost knocked down some of the people who walked along the sidewalk. Some  
were wearing hats, and lost them to the breeze. But they recovered their   
balance and their hats, returned to going about their business as if nothing   
happened.  
_____After the wind died down, Murphy said, "That hometown of yours... It   
sounds pretty bad. Not even the Fringes are that bad. I mean, there ARE   
problems. But we can handle the violent crime if it gets out of control.   
Are things so tough and hard in Scrap Iron City that most everyone you knew   
died?"   
_____The city wind blew again... Thinking about what Murphy said, Gally   
realized that she was dumping her troubles on someone she barely knew. This was   
not good; her troubles were her own. She gave a shake of her head, deciding not   
to give a straight answer. "I cannot quite say. Then again, we all suffer pain   
of loss."  
_____"Yeah... I suppose you're right on that point," said Murphy, his eyes   
still looking far away. A few more Metro Cops walked past him down these   
steps, waving to the two on the stairs. "In fact, you're very right." He   
looked at the cyborg-girl. "Hey, the Chief said you were still looking for   
that guy... The reason why you came to this city. Any new clues or leads?"  
_____"A lack of luck," she answered. "Though I am very certain that my quarry  
is within this city, his exact location is unknown. A journalist-friend has   
helped me gather some clues and hints as to where my target could be. But he,   
Dr. Nova, still conceals himself."   
_____Officer Murphy put fingers to his chin, regarded the cyborg-girl. "Hmm...  
What's with that guy, Dr. Nova? Is he nuts?"   
_____Gally gave a quick nod. "Yes, he is. Edison, his colleagues, and I   
constructed an idea. We believe that the madman has allied himself with a   
corporation. In that way, Dr. Nova has been able to exercise his knowledge of   
cyborg technology. Such results in spates of violence caused by prototype  
cyborgs."  
_____"Yes, that's exactly what the Edison Carter show talked about," answered  
Murphy. "I suppose that the more citizens know about this, the better. That   
Dr. Nova can't hide forever! If he's causing problems, I suppose you'll be   
Able to stop him eventually."  
_____Gally nodded once, a positive answer. She still had one more food-bar to  
finish. She decided to eat it now, because there was no telling what this   
day would come. She best eat while she still could.  
_____A big Metro Cop, one in the standard bulky kevlar armor and helmet, came   
partway down the steps, gave Murphy a pat on a shoulder. "Hey Murphy!" he   
said, "Detective Walthers has today's patrol route set up for you. Asked if   
the cyborg-girl wanted to come along." He then gave a black-gloved thumbs-up   
to Gally. "Yeah... And good job last night, metal-girl!"  
_____"Walthers has my route...! It's about time!" said Murphy. He stood up.   
"I'm going in, Gally. You coming with me? If you have other plans for today,   
I'll understand."  
...  
_____Somewhere else in the city, there was a small television on. It was   
propped up on a grungy metal barrel. Its electrical cord was taped together   
and attached to a light pole. This was one of many televisions out here in   
Sector N-1 of the Fringes, something to watch. And on the side of the TV's   
barrel was a circular symbol: a circle with three black triangles in it. The  
"radiation" symbol!   
_____Not too long ago, the barrel was full of radioactive waste. But most of   
it had leaked out, leaving some slightly luminous slime at the bottom. Nobody   
knew or cared about that now, though; they just needed the barrel to prop up  
their TV.  
_____Right now, the Edison Carter Show was on. The show began with a scene--  
a view in the downtown core-region of the city, in a corporate plaza. But,   
in the middle of the plaza was a huge broken statue. No, wait, that wasn't a   
God-damned statue! It was one of those damned KILLING MACHINES! A big one...!  
_____"This is Edison Carter, live and direct," came the tele-journalist's voice  
through the television speaker. "I'm reporting to you from my own place of  
work--Network 23 headquarters. As you may already know, Network 23 came under  
attack by a hulking beast of metal. Surely, another act of terrorism by an  
unknown corporate entity.  
_____"In recent weeks, we have all been under attack by metal-bodied beings of   
unknown origin. Out of nowhere, they come to harass and harm. They injure,   
mutilate and kill dozens of innocents, and then they vanish. A new and   
troubling threat to city life. They are prototype cyborgs--once thought to be   
beyond current technology, now a horrible reality."  
_____Then, the camera's view came yet closer to the huge metal thing, which was   
kneeling. It was clearly dead--or broken. Lots of holes in its armor.  
_____"However, there is a noteworthy exception," continued the voice on the  
TV. "Ladies and gentlemen, the damage done to this particular monster was done  
by none other than a heroic teenage girl. Yes, a petite and rather pretty   
girl...with a difference."  
_____What the Hell? Did Edison Carter lose his mind? How could some short-  
little bitch do THAT to one of those cyborg killer-things? Do that to a BIG   
prototype cyborg-thing?  
_____"The girl has undergone the same process that made the metal-bodied   
terrorists. That is, her natural body has been replaced with a body of metal,   
enabling her to fight the enemy. Her name is Gally, and she is a cyborg.   
_____"Soon after the prototype cyborg threat materialized, Gally came to this  
city--with the expressed purpose of finding the party responsible for the   
terrorists acts. Now, she works with the Metro Cops--who have enlisted her   
aid.  
_____"And so, we citizens have hope. Whereas we were once at the mercy of the   
prototype cyborgs, these metal terrorists, we now have someone who can stop the   
threat. If you see a rather small dark-haired girl walking down your street--a   
girl who wears black over her metal body--you will know that you are safe."   
A pause. "Again, this is Edison Carter, live and direct..."   
_____Then, the show cut to a commercial. It advertised neuro-electronic   
wrist-bands that you could get for free at a fast-food restaurant. The   
wrist-bands induced a dream-like (or drug-like) trance, but some people said  
that they cause brain damage. You've got to be careful with what the   
corporations make sometimes.  
...  
_____In Sector W-2 of the Fringes, the poorly clad masses continued doing what  
they normally did every day of the week--which was almost nothing. Because   
employers almost never gave them jobs. Some of the streets were blocked off   
as so many people set up makeshift camps there. And the abandoned buildings   
were musty and hot sometimes, so people sat outside.   
_____So there were camps set up right in the streets. Camps, furnished with   
old couches, chairs and jury-rigged electrical appliances.   
_____That was shelter; what about other basics? Well, food is always a bit   
hard to come by, but everyone always managed to scrounge up something to eat.   
The rich people in the downtown core threw out old clothes, so people can just  
go into old sanitation facilities and find things to wear. As for   
entertainment... Well, there was television! Televisions are probably the only   
things given out for free--even if you had to put up with all those commercials.   
_____It was warm during the daytime. There was no need to set up barrels for   
fires. When the sun went down and the streets grew chilly, there had to be  
old paper and stuff to burn if there wasn't sleeping space inside the old   
buildings. If a person decided to sleep inside or outside, one always had to  
find some bedcovers with not too many holes in it.   
_____But it was daytime now! Late afternoon. Televisions on, people were   
sitting inside and around the dilapidated old buildings here. More people   
were sitting in street-camps, radios and television hooked up with taped-  
together wiring.   
_____Then, on Enduro Street--one of these impoverished lanes--something began   
to happen. Television reception began to fuzz up! People got up from ragged   
couches and tried fiddling with antennas, but it was of no use. Others began   
slapping televisions and radios, cursing and swearing, thinking that would   
fix the fuzzy reception.... Then HE appeared--right here on this street. The   
Kindly Old Man!   
_____Dressed in white slacks, white button shirt with suspenders, and brown  
shoes, the Kindly Old Man danced along the cracked sidewalk. The iron gray   
hair atop his wrinkled head fluttered and bounced as he hopped and skipped   
along the street--doing that strange dance of his. His shoes made shuffling  
and pradiddling sounds as he skipped along on his merry way....   
_____...Oh, FUCK! People stopped fooling around with television antennas and   
turned to stare, eyes wide. They didn't know WHAT the Hell he was. Some said   
the Kindly Old Man was some kind of live hologram, a different kind of Max   
Headroom. Others said he was some kind of alien. Or, he was an ordinary person   
made crazy by corporate experiments--experiments gone wrong! Whatever the case,   
he was damned creepy!   
_____And there he is! Hopping and bopping along! Scaring the SHIT out of   
everybody! People could not believe it, what they were seeing. The Kindly   
Old Man looked as real as anything! You could see him and hear him, plain as   
day... Right here on Enduro Street.  
_____But when he came to the intersection at the end of the block, he faded   
away... Vanished, like he always did! He must have gone back to wherever he   
came from--space, underground, or somewhere. The point is, he wasn't here   
anymore.   
_____Thank GOD he wasn't! Even seconds after he faded away, everyone around   
here was stocked still with fear. Someone people even vomited what little food   
they had to eat for breakfast. Yes, the Kindly Old had that sort of effect on  
people.  
...  
_____And sixty-six minutes after that event, Officer Murphy drove a standard   
black police cruiser car past that street. Gally was seated in the shotgun   
seat at his right, looking out the window. Looking at the people sitting   
around... Indeed, this was not too different from Scrap Iron City. But there   
were differences.  
_____Officer Murphy slowed this car, stopped. No, he could not drive along   
Enduro Street itself--too many obstructions. He could get by another way.   
"What's on your mind, Gally?" he asked. "Something get your attention...?"   
_____Then he saw Gally squint her eyes closed, her gray fingers to her head.   
She made no sounds, only sat there. It looked like a pain so intense that   
she could not even scream...  
_____With a quick screech of tires, Murphy stopped the car. Looked at Gally,   
who was in pain. "What's wrong! Is your brain injured? Talk to me, kid!"  
_____She let out a sigh... The pain was gone. "Something...! Something is   
wrong...! I can hear HIM, the Kindly Old Man. He was wheezing IN MY MIND!   
I cannot withstand..." Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped  
forward where she sat. Her dark hair curtained her pale face.  
_____THUMP...! Something atop the car roof? Murphy looked around. TH-THUMP!   
Something ELSE landed atop the black police cruiser! "What the...?" he said   
in surprise. Then he reached between the seats and took one of the racked   
weapons there--a short black submachine gun.   
_____An excellent and compact weapon, its modified clip could hold two hundred   
rounds. Now, it had a black curving "banana" clip full of those brand-new   
ferro-ceramic bullets. Murphy would need such weaponry against the metal   
things that were on the roof of the car--those damned prototype cyborgs!  
_____But, it was pretty odd how Gally had a sudden headache just before these  
freaks appeared. At the least, it was a sort of early warning... "Thanks,  
Gally," said this armor-clad Metro Cop before opening his car door and leaping  
out. Into a battle...  
...  
_____He leapt out onto the cracked street, then did a quick controlled tumble--  
a tuck-and-roll--to absorb the impact. Snapping to his feet, black helmet   
glinting, he aimed his submachine gun at the two metal-bodied freaks atop his   
car! But they were different from the other metal-bodied prototype cyborgs...  
_____Those two looked more dangerous... They looked like roboticized human   
skeletons, with machinery in the ribs. Their rubber faces looked more pinched,  
more sinister, than the other prototype cyborgs that caused trouble. And these  
things were armed: their hands wereren't just metal hands, but shiny claws...   
Then they turned their rubber faces to look at Murphy--and smiled.  
_____CR-CR-CRACK! A triple burst of gunfire from Murphy's weapon, and one of  
them staggered, tumbling off of the car. But the other one pounced!  
_____Standing in front of the crouching officer, the skeletal cyborg gave a   
SWIPE of its claws. At the very last moment, Murphy shrugged his right   
shoulder--taking the HIT on the arm instead of the head. Still, he was knocked   
away ten yards, sliding to a stop...  
_____He got to his feet, the kevlar padding over his right shoulder shredded.   
Just a bit of blood oozed. He then opened fire. Cr-cr-crack! Cr-cr-crack!   
_____Two bursts of gunfire. Dark fluid and sparks splurted from the chest of   
the skeletal metal-freak with the rubber face. Yes-s-s...  
_____Chest damage! That should have put the metal-freak on the ground!   
Still, it walked in this direction. And it wanted to mess Murphy up! Still  
standing.  
_____If he was going down, then he wasn't going down without a fight! He raised   
his weapon, then began walking toward the metal freak. Cr-cr-cr-cr... Bullets  
flying from his gun, he fired as he walked.   
_____Sparks flew like mad from the metal freak's chest, and some bullets went  
between the metal ribs and into the exposed chest machinery. It staggered a   
bit, but still it came. Nothing seemed to stop it.... Then Murphy ran out of   
bullets. He then grippeed his submachine gun reverse, holding it like a club.  
Raising it up, he made a dead run at the thing!   
_____A black blur flew in from the right, behind the metal freak. When the   
blur flew past, the metal-freak's head came clean off. Dark fluid and sparks   
flew up from the metal neck-stump like a grotesque fountain of horror.   
_____Murphy stopped himself. He lowered his empty submachine gun, looked   
around... Where did THAT come from? Then he saw... There, at the left   
sidewalk, was Gally. The petite cyborg girl knelt on the sidewalk, her dark-  
clad back to Murphy.  
_____Walking closer, he kept his eyes on her. Something was not right. "Uh...   
Thank you, Gally... What do you have there?" No answer but the sound of Gally   
panting. Moving slowly, he walked up to this sidewalk. This fight seemed to   
be over, but now there could be another threat.  
...  
_____Gally quick-turned her head in Murphy's direction, a big smile on her   
face. But her eyes were not at all innocent and happy. The eyes... The look on   
her face was feral, absolutely maniacal. He saw THAT look on Gally's face   
before. But, this time, it was worse.   
_____He stayed where he was. Gally did not. She slowly stood, a sleek metal-  
bodied figure in black. And she began a slow walk towards Murphy. Cradled in   
her arms was...a head. It was the rubber-faced head of the metal freak that  
had threatened Murphy--the thing that Gally just eliminated.   
_____She stop, her head level to Murphy's abdomen. Holding the rubber-faced  
metal skull in her steely gray hands, she raised it up to Murphy's face. Presented  
it like a new-found toy.  
_____Eyes... The "eyes" of the dead head stared at him--camera lenses for   
sight. But the eyes were dead. And, the way Gally was acting now, maybe he   
would be dead as well.  
_____THUNK...! The metal skull-head was gone. It took a moment for Murphy   
to realize that Gally had dropped it to the sidewalk. Dropped, like a piece   
of junk.  
_____Then he heard her laugh. "Ha ha ha..." It was a laugh that did not   
sound like Gally as he knew her. "Ha ha ha ha! Aaah...ha ha ha ha..." She   
turned away from Murphy. "Ha ha ha...! Oh, how this brings joy!" She gave  
a playful kick to the rubber-faced metal skull. "Such fun!"  
_____"Gally...?" asked Murphy. He spoke carefully, expecting Gally to explode  
with sudden violence at any moment. "What happened to the other one? The  
other prototype cyborg?"  
_____"Oh...!" The cyborg-girl turned and smiled. "He's next to the car...   
At least, his torso is! His arms and legs are there too, I believe. I placed   
the legs underneath the car. And, the head is atop the hood--an ornamental   
touch."  
_____Grim-faced and a little shaken, Murphy went to work on cleanup. He gripped   
the limp metal arms of the nearest prototype cyborg--the headless one. Then  
he had to drag it over to the still-idling police cruiser. And he went back   
for the head.   
_____He had reached into the car to pull the trunk release--opening the back   
of the car. Everything was going in. Nothing was going to be left out. He   
put both the metal skeletal body and head in the trunk. Now for the  
other one...   
_____Gally gleefully gathered the metal parts of the other prototype cyborg,   
the one she destroyed. Legs, arms and torso came up. The head taken off the   
hood... Soon all the parts were in the trunk.  
_____With a final THUNK, Murphy closed the car trunk, put himself in the car.   
Gally got back into the police cruiser, and Murphy put the car in gear. This   
black vehicle slowly motored away, and the people came out of hiding. But   
fear lingered in the air.  
...  
_____Soon after that, driving along, Officer Murphy turned on the car's   
audio-visual communications link--a screen-and-speaker setup that was in the   
middle of the car's dashboard. Gally looked there, saw a serious officer's   
face appeared on the screen.   
_____It was not just a typical dispatcher on the screen, but a police corporal.   
Next to the insignia of his rank, he had a kind of antenna symbol on his   
collar. "This is Corporal Saundre," came his voice through the speaker. "I   
will be taking your communications. Report, Officer Murphy."   
_____Murphy slowed this car down and parked, right next to a grungy old   
building with a crooked metal sign on it. Looking into the small camera set   
next to the dashboard monitor, he spoke. "Gally and I encountered a more   
advanced danger. Two advanced prototype cyborgs. They were faster than the   
ones we previously encountered."   
_____"Were the ferro-ceramic rounds effective?" asked the police corporal.   
"Or, was the cyborg-girl required to eliminate the threat? How were the   
advanced prototypes killed?"   
_____Officer Murphy glanced at Gally, then returned his eyes to the small video  
camera lens. "A combination. The ferro-ceramic rounds were effective in   
damaging the new prototype cyborgs, but Gally had to finish them off."  
_____The police corporal on the screen thought for just a second. "Do you have  
any remains? Direct data regarding efficacy of our ammunition would be most   
useful."   
_____Officer Murphy nodded. "Outstanding," said the police corporal. "I will   
send Officer Zackus and Officer Leila to cover your patrol. Bring the new   
prototype remains to the station as soon as possible. Anything else to report?"   
_____At that moment, for a moment, Officer Murphy wanted to tell the police   
corporal about how Gally's mind seemed to...change when she fought. He   
remembered how Gally's looked during the fight back there: Her young, pretty   
face took on a crazed, lunatic's look. As if....   
_____Never mind. Giving another glance to Gally, Officer Murphy answered.   
"Nothing further to report. I will now move to the station."   
_____"I see that you have been injured," said Corporal Saundre. "Looks like  
laceration. Use a first-aid spray."  
_____First-aid sprays were for use in case of injury. A sort of spray-on   
bandage and anesthetic. The spray first acts like a local anesthetic, eliminating  
pain. Then it sanitizes open wounds. Finally, it sticks--forming a sort of   
liquid bandage to prevent bleeding and further infection.  
_____Murphy felt he didn't need his spray now. "Don't worry, Corporal Saundre.  
The wound isn't much. But thanks for the concern. Over and out..." The   
corporal on the other end broke the connection, vanished from the screen.  
In his place, the Metro Cops circular "MC" logo appeared.   
_____This Metro Cop then drove this car through a right turn at the next   
intersection. Avoiding pedestrians and junk in the street, he began the drive   
back to the station. In the corner of his eye, he noticed that Gally began to   
look at him with those big dark eyes of hers.  
_____Gally spoke. "Officer Murphy, I may appear to be young, but the age of my  
mind far surpasses that my appearance. In my experience with people, I notice  
certain actions that betray emotions--however subtle. You now seem   
uncomfortable in my presence."   
_____Murphy tightened his grip on the steering wheel. How should he say this?  
"Gally, can I be honest? I mean, really honest? I don't want to hurt your  
feelings, but..."   
_____"Speak on, if you wish," said Gally. "If speaking will alleviate your   
discomfort, then do so." She smiled slightly. "But, please avoid insults and  
ridicule."  
_____Murphy thought, Here we go! Said, "I think that you're a bit unstable,   
when it comes to fighting. Now, I know that you probably have a lot of   
problems. And from what little you said about your hometown, wherever it is,   
that's understandable. But why did you have to LOOK that way when you fought   
those things back there?"  
_____Gally's smile widened yet more. "That is because I truly enjoy physical   
confrontations. Through fighting, I grow to be stronger. That is because   
fighting is exploration of my potential on a physical and spiritual level. It   
is just so beneficial to me." Her eyes seemed to sparkle when she said this.   
"I feel...ALIVE."   
_____Driving this car, letting his eyes stay on the road ahead, Murphy had no  
immediate response. For some uncomfortable moments, there was but the slight  
sound of the car's engine and the sound of the tires on the ill-maintained  
urban roadway. No talking...  
_____Now, his fear about Gally was replaced a bit with indignation. As a   
police officer, he saw killing as a last resort. And, killing was done for   
justice and public safety, not for personal gain of any kind. "I just hope   
you see your victims as more than just targets for cash and experience, Gally."  
_____Gally turned away. "You have offended me, Officer Murphy." Her voice   
rose in pitch. "You should know, IT IS NOT ABOUT MONEY! I kill as killing   
BRINGS GREAT PLEASURE!"   
_____Whoa...! Gally lowered her voice, embarrassed. "I give apology, yet you   
owe the same to me. Please, do not assume you are aware of all my motives."  
The road ahead became slightly more free of junk. They were approaching   
the downtown core-region of the city.   
_____"Hmm..." went Murphy, jaw clenching. He let out a loud breath... "Okay,   
okay, I suppose I went a bit too far," he said. "I'm sorry. It's just that...   
You SCARE me, girl! I still think of you as a human being--just with a body   
replaced with machinery. But some of the things you do... Well..."   
_____"Let us leave it at that," said Gally. "Just assume me to be human.   
Faith in my humanity is part of my sanity." And that was all the two said to   
each other for the rest of the way back to the 1st Precinct.   
...  
_____This black patrol cruiser emerged into the core-region of the city--where  
everyone and everything looked much cleaner and wealthier. Well-kept buildings  
at the sides, a smooth road beneath the car, and the mid-afternoon sky   
overhead.   
_____Eventually, that vehicle came to the grand 1st Precinct building. Murphy   
drove the vehicle down the concrete ramp and into the basement parking area.  
It was more dim and cool down here, lit by florescent lighting. About half   
the parking spaces were full, occupied by similar black cars.   
_____Gally noticed that there were already Metro Cops waiting for them at the  
far end of this underground lot--where there were the stairs and elevators.   
Four black-clad Metro Cops with a wheeled black cart, standing with Police   
Chief Thunderhorse.  
_____Murphy drove the car over there, stopped it. He pulled the trunk release,  
and the back of the car opened. Then he himself got out of the vehicle,   
followed by Gally from the other side.   
_____First, the Metro Cop jogged around, then stood stiffly in front of Chief   
Thunderhorse. Gally walked over, looked up at the police chief. He was dressed  
as usual: white shirt and beige slacks worn over a tall, strong physique. A   
tall and noble man.  
_____"Good afternoon, sir," said Officer Murphy. "I didn't know that you   
were going to be meeting us. It's an honor."   
_____The tall swarthy chief chuckled. "Hah hah... It is nothing as high as  
that! This is business, actually. I had to meet Gally immediately and   
directly--the only cyborg we have fighting on our side!" Turning his head,   
he addressed three of the Metro Cops who stood here. "Joel, Samuk, and Trace,   
handle what Murphy brought in the trunk. Transport the new prototype cyborg  
parts to tech-forensics for analysis."  
_____That said, three of the Metro Cops took the wheeled cart over to Murphy's  
patrol cruiser. They carefully removed the skeletal metal parts from the   
car trunk and put them in the black wheeled cart. The cart was then wheeled   
over to one of the elevators--going up into the station.  
_____Chief Thunderhorse spoke to Murphy. "I want you inside. Have that shoulder   
tended." Murphy opened his mouth to protest, but the police chief raised his   
right hand. "No, the wound may seem superficial, but it could worsen. Then  
it would cost more to have the skin and muscle regrown! Please do go inside."  
_____Somewhat saddened, Murphy nodded and walked over to the elevators. One  
opened, and he went in--a bit of blood dripping to the floor from the shredded  
armor padding on the injured shoulder.  
_____Then Chief Thunderhorse looked down at the cyborg. "Gally, give me your   
credit rod."  
_____Obeying the police chief, Gally unzipped the slit-pocket at her left   
hip. She took out the squat, silvery object. Handed it to him. He took it,  
then spoke to one of the Metro Cops.   
_____"Janx, wire a hundred more credits into this from my expenses account.  
She assisted an injured officer."  
_____Officer Janx took a bulky looking device from where it was attached to his  
belt. He attached Gally's cred-rod to it, punched some keys, then removed it.  
Gave the cred-rod back to the police chief--who gave it back to Gally.  
_____Gally put the credit-rod back in her slit-pocket, but did so with a look  
of slight contempt. The cyborg-girl only recently reaffirmed to Officer   
Murphy that she did not fight for money. And now here she was, taking more  
monetary reward--stiff-faced.  
_____"Well...! Hah hah hah..." went Chief Thunderhorse, his voice echoing   
throughout here. "Today, you show your distaste for 'crass' reward! All the  
same, my payment to you is not just about money. It is symbolic. It is   
immediate reward--the traditional means of affirming an outsider's service to   
this organization."   
_____He crossed his arms, bent over slightly. "Now, I also reward you by   
personally delivering a message. Someone is to meet you at Cafe 69--down the   
street. The person will not know it, but the person WILL be willing to talk   
to you."   
_____Such an odd statement... But, after this, she had nothing else to do  
today but wandering about the city and listen for further clues of Dr. Nova's   
whereabouts.   
_____She answered, "As odd and as unsubstantiated as that statement sounds, I   
will follow it. There is nothing else I can do today."   
_____Murphy said nothing about the slight tone of disrespect Gally made toward  
the chief. One thing known about Police Chief Thunderhorse was his peculiar   
tendency to be RIGHT about some things. He sometimes knew things ahead of time  
that other people didn't--like magic.  
_____Then, Gally gave a wave of her right hand--a "good bye" sort of gesture.   
She turned and walked away, going toward the opening at the far end of this   
vast basement garage. It was bright outside; walking to the basement garage   
exit was like walking into a white glare.  
...  
_____...Outside the station. Gally knew where Cafe 69 was. It was a block   
over from street on which the 1st Precinct building was located. She and   
Murphy passed that place several times before, going to and coming from this   
central police station.   
_____A minute or so of brisk walking, and she was there. A door at one side,   
the place had a panoramic window showing the view inside the small eating   
establishment. There was a neon sign at the door--"Cafe 69."  
_____Inside, Cafe 69 looked much like the diner she saw in another place: the  
tables were at the left side, and the long counter at the front. The counter,   
where people made orders for food and sat on stools to talk. A waiter and   
waitress--in black-and-white clothing--handled food orders. And the people   
eating here were the sort Gally saw in this part of town: well-dressed, well-to-  
do professional people. The people who worked white-collar and technical jobs.   
_____As it was the afternoon, there was a moderate amount of business being   
done; eight or so people sat at tables and at the long counter. They were in   
office clothing, but some wore lab coats. People were eating, talking about   
things they did at work, things of that sort. They did not notice Gally as   
she went over to the counter.  
_____Sitting on a stool at the far left side, she picked and unfolded the   
menu here. Hmm... An interesting selection of foods. She never saw half   
the items listed on this menu. Would these odd foods be compatible with her   
artificial digestive system?   
_____Well, tea was always a safe option. And, there were several kinds.   
"Pekoe cut mint" sounded nice...  
_____The cyborg-girl closed the menu and waited for the cook--a portly man in   
white clothes, a white apron and hat completing his outfit. He came over.   
"Hello," he said, "what would you like?"  
_____"I would like the 'Pekoe-cut mint tea'" she said. "And, some simple   
sugar within it would do nicely. I actually need sugar."  
_____"Heh heh... I know. You're the cyborg-girl," said the cook. "The tea   
will be here faster than you can say 'glucose!'" He turned around, went over   
to the small cooking area, where a spare waitress was helping in preparing   
another order.   
_____Gally swiveled a bit around atop this stool, glanced around at the rest   
of the diner's interior--a comfortable scene. This place lit with a   
combination of overhead florescent lighting and natural sunlight from the   
large picture-window. Everyone here chatted, many of them smiling. She was  
actually beginning to feel at ease, especially since her presence as the   
"cyborg-girl" was becoming accepted.   
_____"Here you go, little lady!" said the cook, setting the serving of hot mint   
tea on the formica counter-top in front of Gally. The saucer had a few sugar   
packets on it. "Pekoe-cut mint tea! With extra sugar."   
_____"Wait a moment..." said Gally. She stood from her stool, unzipped her   
left slit-pocket and presented her cred-rod to the cook. "I pay in advance,  
as my presence may be more or less temporary."  
_____"What? More or less...?" went the cook, looking at other people here as   
if looking for clarification. "Oh, hah hah...! You must be an amateur   
philosopher or something. Okay." He took the cred-rod and walked over to the   
register centered behind the counter--attached the squat cylinder to the   
register. He charged Gally's tea--two credits. Then he came back, giving   
back the cred-rod. "Here you go."   
_____Gally took her cred-rod back, put it back into her pocket. Climbing atop  
the stool once more, she took a sip of the mint tea. Hmm, quite refreshing.  
All the same, she pinched open a few packets of sugar--poured the sweetening   
powder into the green tea. Her brain had a taste for sugar; sugar was what kept   
it alive.  
_____As Gally drank tea, a waitress had a slight problem. That waitress felt   
a lump in her right apron pocket. Every waitress' apron had a pocket for   
holding pencil and pad for taking table orders. But now, there was something   
else in her pocket, and she didn't know what it was. She couldn't take it out   
now, though: both her hands were occupied, two trays of food. When she had   
time, she'd get the object out. Whatever the Hell it was in there...  
_____Taking another quiet sip of tea, the slight murmur of diner clientele   
in the background, Gally thought of nothing in particular. This was her time.   
With all the problems and troubles she had, she would not care about them for   
just a few minutes now. This was a space of peace and quiet.   
_____In the meanwhile, that waitress delivered the two orders to the waiting  
customers at a table--a man and woman, both in business clothes. Her hands   
free of food trays, that waitress reached into her right apron-pocket...   
But...nothing! Nothing in the pocket but her order-pad and pen. But she   
could have SWORN there was SOMETHING in her pocket: something the size of a   
fist.   
_____Well, she took out the order-pad and pen. Another customer had an order.  
Maybe she was working too hard and just imagined something there.  
_____Another customer came in--a pretty, brunette-haired woman with big blue  
eyes. Fresh from work at Network 23, she was dressed as most everyone else   
was. And today, she had decided to check this diner out; someone told her   
the coffee here was exquisite.  
_____That pretty newcomer looked around. This place was a bit small inside,   
but it was also cozy... Then she saw a familiar, petite, dark-clad figure.   
Yes, very familiar, because there was only one cyborg-girl in this city!  
_____Walking past tables and passing a waitress, she walked over to the   
counter over there. Sat on the stool next to the cyborg-girl. "Why, hello  
Gally," said the woman, her light English accent sweetening her voice. "Dear  
me, this is quite a surprise. Is this where you go when not working with your   
Metro Cop friends?"  
_____Gally took another sip of her tea, looked right. She remembered the   
woman: It was Theora, Edison Carter's controller. Big blue eyes to go with  
her round pretty face.  
_____A sip of tea, and the cyborg-girl spoke. "Oh... Good afternoon, Theora.   
In truth, it was suggested by my current employer that I stop by here. By   
coincidence or by karma, he told me that I was to meet someone here." She   
smiled. "Now, I do meet such a person."   
_____"Ha hah... How odd!" answered Theora. Leaning her right elbow on the   
counter, she looked to the cook. Said to him, "I will try your house special...  
Your 'Damned Fine Coffee.' DARK blend."  
_____The cook nodded, then went away to make the house special--some "Damned   
Fine Coffee." That stuff was becoming more popular all the time. But, just   
as he turned the tap to fill a tall mug full of the rich dark coffee, he   
noticed that one of his waitresses was trying to take something out of her   
apron's pockets--the right-side pocket.  
_____Theora looked at the petite cyborg-girl. It was odd, being seated next   
to someone who wasn't fully human. It was just safest to think of Gally as  
having form-fitting metal armor. But, on an intellectual level, Theora knew  
better.  
_____"So...!" said the woman, her voice bright. "I've come to hear that you   
had a late-night meeting with Edison...when your meeting was interrupted by that   
oversized cyborg! Up to then, we've been quite worried about you of late.   
Well? Where were you before coming to our rescue? Certainly, you were not in   
the city."  
_____"I do not know if you would quite believe what I would say to that,"   
answered the cyborg-girl. "Truthfully, I cannot quite trust my own memories.   
Things are quite odd."  
_____Meanwhile, that waitress dipped her fingers deeper into her right apron-   
pocket. The thing was there again. It wouldn't come out! Maybe she ought to  
ask Sal--the boss--for some scissors so she could CUT it out.   
_____Back at the counter, Theora crossed her arms. Said, "Oh? Try me. I   
like to believe myself an open-minded person. Tell me where you think you   
have been."   
_____"I believe that I was in...another place," she said. "A different venue,  
a different town. One quite different from this city, and even more unlike   
my own native Scrap Iron City. But, there was an aspect to the town that   
tested my sanity." She leaned closer to Theora. "In that town, I was...   
Was...different. It was a transformation of me."  
_____Speaking carefully, Theora asked, "What do you mean by that? You were   
'transformed?' I do not understand." It was best to ask this question with   
care; Theora had heard rumors about the cyborg-girl's mental stability.  
_____By now, the troubled waitress was behind the counter with the head cook   
and owner of Cafe 69. As the waitress held her pocket open, the cook--Sal--  
found a pair of scissors in a drawer. He slid one sharp part of the scissors   
into the waitress' pocket, began to slice.  
_____"...My body changed," added Gally. "My current body is one of metal, one   
designed for agility and strength. An appropriate body, because I fight. But,   
in the Town of Delsea, my physique was one of synthetic flesh--indistinguishable   
from a natural human body. That, and my mind underwent troubling changes...some   
of which I still retain."  
_____Behind the counter, the waitress' pocket problem was being solved. Sal   
the cook cut open that waitress' apron-pocket and took out the bulky object   
that was inside. "WOW! Thank GOD!" said that waitress, rubbing her hip where  
the object rubbed her. "Hey, what the HELL is that thing? Where the HELL did  
it come from?"   
_____Surprised by the loud waitress, Gally turned to look. Sal the cook must   
have been surprised as well--because he dropped the weird thing he found in   
the waitress' pocket. It was a fist-sized box made of wood...tumbling down...  
_____It THUNKED when it hit the floor. And the lid popped open like a little  
door, revealing an impossibly black darkness inside. The box had darkness   
inside it.  
_____There was darkness in that box...! Because, it was THE box! Gally   
gasped, her eyes going wide. She fell off her stool, but never hit the floor--  
because she vanished in mid-air, going to another place. Yet again, the   
cyborg-girl left the city. 


	7. Blood, Metal, and Power

The Other Box: Chapter 7 (by Elliot Bowers)   
...  
Blood, Metal, and Power  
...  
_____Theora stood up from her place at the cafe counter, her face showing   
fright and shock. She went over to the high stool at the left--where the   
cyborg girl was sitting. WAS sitting. Gally had magically vanished...  
____Magic? No, no, no! The word just randomly came to mind; Theora did NOT   
believe in magic. She was a logical woman, one who believed in reality.   
An expert with various computer systems and office management, she prided   
herself on having a solid knowledge of people and machines: science and   
technology. There was no such thing as magic. And there had to be a solid   
and realistic explanation as to how the cyborg-girl disappeared.   
_____So, what WAS the explanation? With no ideas coming to mind, the pretty,   
professionally dressed woman was left here thoroughly discombobulated.   
Standing here, she tried to come up with an explanation one more time.  
_____She thought back to what just happened here. First, Gally was sitting   
on that cafe stool--drinking tea and talking about some "other place." It was   
a place, she said, where she was different. Then, the waitress had shouted   
about something. About some odd object. Theora remembered hearing Gally   
gasp, falling off of the cafe stool, and then...!  
_____She vanished. Just like that. The cyborg-girl was no longer in this   
cafe. And, Theora strongly suspected that Gally was no longer in the city  
either. Or, maybe it was something in the tea?  
_____Theora leaned over, looked into the teacup. There was the drink Gally   
was sipping--pekoe-cut mint tea. Ordinary tea? She looked closer at the stuff.  
_____As she watched, something began to happen...! The liquid in the cup   
began to slowly swirl counter-clockwise. Slo-o-w-w-wly... Being stirred by   
something Theora could not see. Then, it began to darken in color--until it   
was a totally dark liquid. So dark, that it looked liked someone poured a   
shadow into the cup.   
_____"Oh my..." whispered Theora. Gally drank that stuff in the cup--whatever  
the Hell it was. What if...?   
_____No, maybe she was hallucinating? Shaking her head and bolstering up her   
courage, Theora reached out with trembling hands, fingers going to the dark-  
filled cup atop the cafe counter-top. She picked it up...   
_____NO-O-O! "Aiigh!" Theora shrieked and flinched. As soon as her fingers   
touched the teacup, there was a sharp pain in her head--accompanied by a  
scream. A scream that only she heard--in her mind.   
_____Recovering, she looked down at herself. In flinching, she had splashed   
the darkened liquid all over her dress and blouse! "Oh, DAMN!" she said in   
her lightly accented voice, putting the now-empty cup atop the counter. She  
tried brushing it off. What IS this Hellish stuff?   
_____Sal the Cook came by with a spare towel. "Goodness!" he said, admiring   
Theora's feminine figure--while disdaining the stains on her clothes. "How'd   
you do that, pretty lady? I didn't see you walk in here with any motor oil.   
Now you've got it all over your clothes! No, wait, that doesn't look like   
motor oil! Hmmph, anyway..." He offered the towel. Asked, "Where's that   
philosophical cyborg-girl? She was here a minute ago." BA-A-NG!   
_____Both the cook and Theora looked around. "What the...?" went the cook.  
There had just been a loud crash of sound from outside the cafe. It sounded   
big, REALLY BIG. Like, someone smashing two cars together.   
_____Soon after that, the cook and Theora heard shouts and yells in the   
distance--outside. Was there an accident? Or was it something worse? It   
sure sounded like a serious one.  
_____Everyone in this cafe got up from where they sat, suddenly curious. They   
wanted to see what the commotion was about out there. And then they heard the  
screams.  
_____Those were screams not often heard in this region of town--where everyone   
lived comfortably and well. Those screams were truly deep and awful,   
unforgettable. Maybe, those were death screams.  
_____In the very worst moment of a human being's life, a person can make quite   
a distinct and terrible sound. It is a sound that comes from deep within, a   
sound of a soul in deep fear. That was the sort of screaming that came from   
out there.  
_____"Oh my God!" went Theora, hearing the sounds of trouble outside. Something   
huge was happening, something big and dangerous. Approaching the cafe's large   
window, she gently pushed aside some gawking people to see outside. She saw   
people running from the left side--going to the right.  
_____Then twelve of those metal things scampered into view! Twelve prototype   
cyborgs scampered over to this part of the street, right in front of THIS cafe.   
They looked terrible--silvery skeletal bodies, chests covered with armor. The   
faces were simple rubber masks put on their metal skulls. Yes, it was those   
things.  
_____Three of the prototype cyborg-things broke off from the main group. They   
were coming this way! One of them leapt at this window, and there was a CRASH  
of glass being broken. Theora screamed when she was hit.  
...  
_____Gally was...somewhere else. She knew it to be the same old dance. The   
darkness in THE box had taken her again! It sent her falling through   
blackness, no sky above and no ground below. As before, there was nothing but   
the sound of the air whipping by as she fell fast. She waited for   
unconsciousness to hit her, and it did.  
_____When consciousness returned, the cyborg-girl sat up. It was that dark   
place again: the dilapidated room. A room outside of reality, outside of time  
and space.   
_____This chair... Gally found that she was even sitting in the same wooden   
chair she sat in last time she was here. The floor of the room was still the   
same, too--a floor made of wooden planks. And the concrete walls still had   
peeling paint. There were still two doors to get out of here: one door at   
the left, one door at the right.   
_____But she knew she could not get up to level; she knew that she could not   
even speak here--for whatever reason. This was not her place, or any mortal's   
place. This was the bizarre, confusing realm of the Kindly Old Man, a   
inhuman being from dreams and darkness. The rules of this place were   
different from the rules of reality. And, the Kindly Old Man should be along   
any moment now.  
_____Gally smiled to herself when--as predicted--she heard the sounds of his   
approach. There was the sounds of HIS wheezing coming from the door on the   
right side. The way the Kindly Old Man sounded, wheezing so, a person expected  
him to drop dead at any moment. Also coming was the shuffle-shuffle-shuffle of   
his hard-soled shoes as HE came to the other side of the door. Indeed, any   
moment now, he'd walk in, and do something.  
_____The right-side door opened. As Gally expected, there was a the glare.   
She turned her head while the door remained ajar--florescent white brightness  
filling this place. And then the Kindly Old Man closed the door behind him--  
again settling the room into gloom. Now, she expected to hear him talk his  
crazy, cryptic talk.   
_____Gally did not necessarily hate the Kindly Old Man. In his twisted,   
metaphoric way of speaking, he provided useful information. It would have   
been much more convenient for the Kindly Old Man to simply say what he meant  
instead of posing strange riddles. If she did not understand how to unravel   
his verbal puzzles, THEN she would be angry with the Kindly Old Man...and   
confused.   
_____HE shuffled on over here, his wheezing filling this room. And he moved  
to the center of the room--where Gally was seated. "Hah-h-h...! Things are  
the same, but DIFFERENT!" he said, wheezing. "Hah-h-h... Sameness with   
difference!" He winked, wheezed some more.   
_____Gally did not immediately understand the riddle, but she would wait for  
what else the Kindly Old Man had to say. Likely, he meant to say that there  
was something different about this visit. She would find out.   
_____He put his hands behind his back, then suddenly whipped them out again.   
Now, he held two objects--one in each hand. In his left hand was a little   
headless woodpuppet, painted white. In his right hand was a bowl of oatmeal,  
almost white. But the woodpuppet had an irritating and cloying smell; it   
smelled like flan.  
_____"Hah-h-h! BLAME HIM!" shouted the Kindly Old Man, shaking the headless  
woodpuppet--the fruity smell of flan wafting towards Gally. "He's ruining THE   
OATMEAL! Just LOOK at what he's doing!" Then the Kindly Old Man dropped  
the woodpuppet into the bowl of oatmeal, making for a slight "plop!"   
_____The oatmeal blackened. It was as if the puppet were a catalyst for  
whatever happened to that mush--a catalyst of dark trouble... That was it!   
That was what the Kindly Old Man was saying. Yes, Gally understood the Kindly   
Old Man--somewhat. Some aspects of his cryptic analogy were strange, but she   
had the general idea of what he communicated.   
_____"Hah-h-h... And wait until BOTH types of oatmeal are darkened!" said the  
Kindly Old Man, his voice now quivering. Holding the bowl of darkened oatmeal   
in his left hand--the headless woodpuppet still in it--the Kindly Old Man used   
his right hand to reach behind his back again. Now, he had another bowl of   
the beige-white foodstuff.  
_____He held the new oatmeal next to the bowl of darkened oatmeal, lowered  
it closer to Gally. And she saw what happened--the same thing that happened   
to the previous bowl of oatmeal. Held close to the darkened oatmeal, the new   
oatmeal began to change color as well. It did not change color as quickly as   
when the woodpuppet was dipped in it, but it was definitely changing...  
_____Soon, both bowls of oatmeal were the same dark color: a sickeningly dark  
lumpy color. The color of rot and sickness. The Kindly Old Man smiled.   
_____"BURN!" he suddenly shouted. Both bowls of oatmeal burst into flame,   
letting off a horrible smell. A smell that was like a combination of burning   
sulfur and metal.   
_____"Hah-h-h..." he wheezed again. "Something is happening, and things will   
BUR-R-RN!" he shouted. There was a final WHOOSH of flame, and both bowls of   
burning oatmeal vanished. All that was left was a thick, disgusting smell.   
_____The point? The message from the Kindly Old Man to Gally was obvious.   
If Gally didn't stop what was happening, then things would "burn." Things   
would worsen. That is, the town of Delsea would be destroyed. That, and the   
nameless city would soon follow--overtaken by darkness. What kind of...?  
_____Gally suddenly remembered: When she was in Delsea, Dr. Nova went to   
great lengths to explain the disease that was overtaking that town. Now,   
something could spread from that town to this one.   
_____"Looksy-daisy!" shouted the Kindly Old Man, interrupting Gally's thoughts.   
He pointed to the cyborg-girl in the chair, and the chair turned itself around--  
turned around by an unknown force. The chair legs scraping the wooden floor,   
and Gally found herself facing the back of the decrepit room: a third-door.  
_____Odd, she never saw that door before. "LOOK and LEARN!" shouted the   
Kindly Old Man. Suddenly, yellow flames flicked from underneath that door,   
accompanied by the smell of cooking meat. No, it was not the smell of ordinary   
meat: it was the smell of burning human flesh. And, listening carefully,   
Gally thought she heard the sounds of distant screams--sounds crazed with   
prolonged pain. Maybe, eternal pain.  
_____"Hah-h-h... Hah-h-h... Watch them burn!" he said into Gally's right ear.   
His voice was filled with obscene glee, pleased with even the thought of the   
people burning beyond the door.  
_____Suddenly, moving much faster than any elderly person would, the Kindly   
Old Man dashed to the door at the left side of the room. He turned the   
doorknob and pulled--opening the door. Beyond it was darkness.  
_____It was that kind of darkness--the darkness seen in the box. Still facing  
the door at the back of the room, Gally just heard the door open. Closing her  
eyes, she let herself be taken by the darkness. Taking her somewhere else.  
...  
_____Back in the city, in the downtown area, some executives of Network 40 were  
having an informal after-work meeting at "Matthia's"--a pretty well-known   
restaurant. These executives were at outdoor tables, the sorts of tables with   
large parasols overhead and the big buildings nearby. The well-dressed men and   
women were eating their meals, talking loosely about their co-workers and   
possible marketing strategies to pursue.   
_____One of the Network 40 businessmen looked up from his bowl of cream of  
wheat. He thought he heard...screams. Slightly annoyed, he turned his bald   
head to see people running this way along the street! "What's this crap?" he   
said aloud to who he was sitting with. Then, he saw what the sound was all   
about.   
_____The large-breasted blonde executive he was sitting with also stared. And   
she quickly forgot about her bowl of salad. "Oh...my...GOD!" she managed to  
say, when the running mob hit the table--a mob of downtown people running for   
their lives!   
_____The running mob also knocked over other tables, knocking over other   
Network 40 executives who were sitting at their meals. Feet stomped and legs  
pumped. It was not unlike the running of the bulls, but with real danger.  
_____Now, this informal get-together was becoming a time of chaos. Food and   
tables went everywhere. Running feet trampled over the resulting debris and   
fallen people. There were soon some broken ribs and stomped faces, as well as   
plenty of shock.   
_____But the worst was yet to come, because there was a group of THINGS   
chasing the running people. THINGS, with skeletally thin metal bodies. Now  
these things swooped down on anyone out-of-doors on this downtown street--  
including the Network 40 executives who had been trampled by the mob.  
...  
_____In the northern part of the downtown core-area, there were six vans parked  
at various points along the neat street. The vans were there since this   
morning, really. The shoppers who came to this part of downtown only glanced  
at the vans, thinking that they were just delivery vans or something. Nobody  
really knew or cared where they came from.  
_____A thin man in blue coveralls and blue stepped out of one van. He just  
had a lunch-break. Now, it was time to get back to work. Actually, he wasn't  
a delivery-man; he was a handyman. A shopkeeper on this street told him that   
her pipes had to be cleaned. Pipes were always getting clogged around here.  
Hmm, maybe it was because this street was so close to the Fringes.  
_____The dandy handyman brushed off his coveralls, then went over to the back  
of his blue van. For cleaning pipes, he had to get out his equipment. Good   
pipe-cleaning wasn't just something that any man could do; it took a serious  
and well-equipped effort to do this sort of plumbing to satisfaction!  
_____He opened the double-doors of his van. And then, he heard about five   
other van doors being opened at the exact same time. The sound of five vehicle  
doors being opened all at once, in chorus, can be quite attention-grabbing--  
especially on a quiet city street in late afternoon.  
_____"Isn't that odd...?" he said to himself, hands on his blue van's rear   
doors. He thought, What were the odds of five other vans opening their doors   
simultaneously? Hmmph...   
_____Shrugging, this handyman reached into the compartment of the blue van--  
just as metal claws reached into his back. He was so surprised that he didn't   
even scream as the metal things began to kill him in a bloody, horrible, and   
slow way. These p-type cyborgs took their sweet sadistic time in killing him--  
ripping his tortured flesh, bit by red bloody bit. They were peeling the meat   
from his bones as if he were fresh meat.  
...  
_____There was trouble in just three parts of the downtown area, but it was   
enough trouble to make things feel as if the entire city was in jeopardy.   
Somewhere in the western ppart of the downtown area, near the four-story   
Network 40 building, a gaggle of prototype cyborgs continued to make for a   
wave of bloody carnage. Somewhere in the northern part of the downtown area,   
on the stylish Brahmin Street, more p-type cyborgs romped and stomped trouble.  
...  
_____And on Mural Avenue, in a southern part of downtown, six MORE cyborgs had   
emerged from the sewers. They killing any citizens that happened to be nearby.   
Then they stood around, as if waiting for anyone or anything to challenge them.  
Who, indeed, would stop them?  
...  
_____Overall, it was not good. In the Metro Cop stations close to those areas,   
telephone calls came flooding in. Worried and harried people screamed and   
cried at what was happening. They saw people being injured, maimed...and   
killed! Right before their eyes! And to think, only three places in town   
had this trouble. Only three places, so far...  
_____Metro Cops from various precincts moved into action! They already had  
on their armor, especially their kevlar helmets and armor padding. And they   
had their guns--loaded with ferro-ceramic rounds. In fact, they bought extra  
boxes of the special ammo, because they knew they would need it.  
_____While two teams of Metro Cops dealt with the two other trouble spots in   
the city, this team of six sped over to Mural Avenue. Yes, that was SIX Metro   
Cops, in black patrol cruisers, rushing to the scene! Wheels and engines burning,  
they arrived!   
_____Two of the black cars blocked one end of the street. One of the cars   
drove up close--blocking the other way. This trapped the cyborgs in the   
middle of the street. Five prototype cyborgs, standing amidst a small pile of   
mutilated corpses.   
_____The cyborgs' claw-hands were red-drenched... And their rubber faces  
smiled with glee. They actually craved company; they could not wait to tear  
apart the bodies of these fresh new victims in black cars--the Metro Cops.  
_____Over by the left end of the street blocked by two cars, there were three   
Metro Cops--submachine guns ready. Opposite them, blocking the other side of   
the street, three more Metro Cops stepped out of their car--more guns ready.   
That made for a total of six black-clad and bulky Metro Cops ready to fight.   
Caught in the middle of the two teams was the group of prototype cyborgs. And   
they GRINNED.   
_____"Open fire!" shouted someone, voice muffled by his helmet. The other   
Metro Cops were too anxious to oblige the order. CR-CR-CR-CR...! And so, the   
sound of gunfire filled the afternoon air, echoing among the buildings.  
...  
_____Somewhere else, in a dimly lit place, the Kindly Old Man danced his dance   
of dark madness. His shoes scuffled and shuffled as he moves, and his arms swung   
this way and that way. As his clothes were white and the place was so dark,   
he seemed like a prancing phantom.   
_____"Hah-h-h...! Hah-h-h...!" he wheezed, excitement on his face. "Gonna  
have fun, oh YES-SIR-EE! Gonna have fun, oh YES-SIR-EE!" he sung in rhythm   
to his insane dance. "Gonna have fun, we're gonna have fun. We're GONNA   
HAVE FUN, oh YES-SIR-EE!"   
_____The Kindly Old Man knew perfectly well what was happening in the city.  
He always knew what troubles happened there. Wherever there was pain and  
misery in the city, whenever people suffered and died, the Kindly Old Man   
aware of it. Even if he wasn't there, he...just...knew....  
...  
_____Back in the city, over on Mural Avenue, that particular battle was almost   
over. Two Metro Cops were still in fighting condition, still uninjured. The   
four other cops were killed by those prototype cyborgs. Meanwhile, two of   
those things were still standing in the middle of the street--functional   
enough to fight and kill.  
_____One of the suriving officers was Officer Trace, kneeling behind the   
damaged police car. The other was Officer Kim, a blonde female who looked   
more girl than woman--but was tougher than she looked. She survived so far.  
_____Trace kept his handgun aimed at those two prototype cyborgs over there.   
He should have felt sweaty beneath the armor and helmet he wore, but didn't.   
"Yo, Kim," he said, "Are those freakin' guns ready yet?"  
_____Officer Trace was referring to the two remaining submachine guns he and   
Kim had left. Officer Kim dared to take off her helmet as so she could more   
easily work on these two guns--guns which had jammed during the battle. She   
knelt closer behind Trace, her fine fingers working with the parts of the guns  
she had to take apart for quick-cleaning.   
_____Ferro-ceramic rounds were still experimental. There was no telling what   
happened when you used them. Using the bullets made the guns overheat and   
jam a bit more easily...  
_____Officer Kim just finished now, putting one of the guns back together.   
"This one is done! The firing mechanism is cleared," she said. Crouching low,  
quickly put the freshly repaired gun atop the black car hood, in front of Trace.  
_____"Thanks, doll!" said this officer, picking up the submachine gun with his   
right hand: dual arms. Handgun in his left hand and submachine gun in his   
right, he grinned behind the visor of his helmet: He was going to kick   
cyborg ASS! Then he squeezed a trigger...  
_____The submachine gun worked--hurling out fast bullets at a rapid rate!   
One of the prototype cyborgs began staggering when the bullets struck it in  
the metal ribs, sparks and dark fluid splurting. And Trace kept his finger on  
the trigger, letting the bullets do their work!  
_____The damaged metal monster began walking toward this car...before it   
collapsed to its silvery knees, then falling on its freaky rubber face. One   
down!  
_____"Yeah!" cheered Trace, voice sounding muffled behind his helmet. Now  
for the other freak. Cr-cr-cr-cr-CLICK! Click! Damn, the submachine gun  
was out of ammo; he had just used most all of it on the other freak.  
_____No problem! He simply took aim with his handgun, aiming at the second  
prototype cyborg--which leapt up! "What the...?" said this Metro Cop. And  
those were his last words.  
_____THUNK-SWIPE! The prototype cyborg landed atop the car hood, then instantly   
swiped off the Metro Cop's head--the helmeted head flying off to somewhere.   
Trace's decapitated, armor-clad body was upright for about three seconds,   
blood spraying freely from the neck-stump...before falling backward onto   
Officer Kim.  
_____Kim acted instantly. From Trace's dead left hand, she took up his handgun.  
A quick aim at the metal thing atop the car, she fired... Aiming for the   
chest. CRACK, one shot! CRACK-CRACK, two more!   
_____Trace's handgun was loaded with ferro-ceramic rounds. Being hit with such   
ammo, the cyborg-thing atop the car tumbled backward, chest spraying sparks   
and dark fluid. And it fell onto its back, on the other side of the car.   
_____Being small and quick, even in kevlar padding and helmet, Kim easily leapt   
atop the hood where the prototype cyborg had stood when it killed Trace. But   
now, SHE was on top! Looking down at the thing sprawled on its back, she fired   
the handgun. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! She kept firing.  
_____The skeletal metal-thing lay broken and dying, but Kim kept firing anyway--  
her small hands gripping the handgun as she fired. All that was in her mind  
were two things: the cyborg-things had just killed five of her fellow officers,  
and now she was killing one of them. She was blasting the thing back to Hell.   
_____It took some moments for Kim to realize that the handgun was out of   
bullets. She had been pulling the trigger of an empty weapon--just making   
for clicking sounds. And, on the street, the cyborg-thing had stopped   
twitching. Its dark inhuman blood pooling onto the hard asphalt. It was dead,   
defeated.  
_____Her hands hot and cramped from firing the gun, Kim lowered the weapon.   
Slowly, she moved to sit down atop the hood--her legs dangling over the edge.   
The gun still hot and smoking. The young police officer used her right hand   
to wipe sweat from her forehead.   
_____Her mind and body numb, she began thinking about the cyborg-girl that   
was supposed to help them against these things. These monsterous prototype   
cyborgs... Kim remembered that the cyborg-girl was named Gally. Gally--an  
odd name. Well, where the HELL was GALLY while this was happening, when she   
was needed the most?   
_____Now, her fellow officers here were dead. And there were several other  
teams of officers fighting prototype cyborgs elsewhere in the city. Those   
officers were probably winning--but also dying. Kim began to cry...  
...  
_____On the west side of the downtown area, something entirely different was  
going to happen--up in the higher floors of the Network 66 skyscraper. At   
the moment, there was a meeting being held by the Board of Directors. The  
usual place: a deep and dimly lit room with a long brown table. It was   
nearing sunset, but no one in this important room cared; the windows were  
sealed.  
_____But, the important people here were still getting views from the city   
streets below--views being displayed on the wall-mounted flat-screen. These   
camera shots were actually nearer to ground-level: views from net-cams once   
used by the Metro Cops for crime prevention.   
_____Now, the view on the big screen showed crime in progress. It was big-time   
crime, the sort of video footage that could easily draw television ratings:   
It was bloody and obscene ULTRA-VIOLENCE! Normally that sort of stuff was   
shown on horror flicks. But that bloody shit on the screen was fucking REAL.   
Oh-h-h, yeah!  
_____The real-life horror-show began with the latest prototype cyborgs leaping   
into the scene, grabbing downtown people and tearing them to shreds. Before   
long, the Metro Cops came along in their sleek black cars. Guns blazing, the   
black-clad officers attacked the skeletal metal freaks that had rubber faces.   
_____Sure, the Metro Cops managed to suppress the prototype cyborgs... With  
that fancy new ammunition of theirs, they won the day--but not before they   
themselves lost many of their own people to the metal freaks. The prototype   
cyborgs had sometimes been able to leap towards the Metro Cops and do some   
in-close damage despite the gunfire. And that was the primary cause of death  
among Metro Cops during the battles; their kevlar armor and helmets could not   
stop the fierce metal claw-swipes of the prototype cyborgs.  
_____While that video footage played on the screen, Dr. Nova went over to a   
boxy and waist-high machine in a corner of this room--a converted refreshments  
dispenser. Now, the machine dispensed six different types of scrumptious,   
mouth-filling flan: Delicious!  
_____A bowl of flan in hand, the labcoat-wearing madman walked over where   
Mr. Grossberg sat--at the head of the long table. That man in business suit   
sat calmly, watching the dark and bloody madness up on the screen. Dr. Nova's   
head and shoulders must have blocked the view from other seats at the long   
table, but no one complained. Their eyes were even more calm and relaxed than  
Mr. Grossberg's.   
_____"As one can see," began Dr. Nova, "it takes 1.75 Metro Cops to defeat  
1 basic cyborg. Mmm..." He took a spoonful of flan... Then another spoonful.   
"Delicious! However, to note, the cyborgs I am able to construct with   
available technology are simple and unsophisticated. Furthermore..." Gulp!   
_____"Mmmm... Ahem! Furthermore, Mr. Grossberg, also notice that the cyborgs   
are without guns! Not that their modified brains posess the intelligence to   
partake in gunnery, but their unarmed efficacy against Metro Cops deserves   
notice! Therefore, the Metro Cops are weaker than even our simple metal-type   
cyborgs. Mmm... And this TRULY IS DELICIOUS FLAN! Oh, how it caresses the   
tongue, the way its flavor intensifies at the back of the mouth as saliva   
strikes, all of it is simply SCRUMPTIOUS! Mmmh-MMMH! So RICH and...DELICIOUS!"  
_____Mr. Grossberg swiveled around in his chair, facing away from the screen  
on the wall. He set two objects onto the long table in this dimly lit long-  
room. The objects he put there were of slightly hefty metal, and made slight   
thunking noises as put them on the polished wood. He then raised his left   
hand and gave a crisp snap of fingers. "Windows!" he said.  
_____The two tuxedo-clad servants by the doors moved to fulfill their master's  
command. They went over to the left side of the room and found the switches  
that raised the automated shutters over the window. There was a slight humming   
sound of electic motors working in the walls as the shutters went up... Slowly   
revealing a view of the vast and sprawling city-scape. Buildings further than   
the eye could see, basking in the warm orange light of late afternoon.  
_____That, and there was more light in this room to see by. With the afternoon  
light coming in from the window, a person could see that the two objects Mr.  
Grossberg put on the table were weapons: a silvery dagger and a revolver-type  
handgun...   
_____Fondling the weapons, Mr. Grossberg thought about what Dr. Nova just   
said to those in this room. "Now, ladies and gentlemen," said this CEO, "you   
all have heard what was said by the good doctor here. We now have the means  
to seizing REAL power in the city!" His fingers continued to stroke the hard   
silvery metal of his weapons.   
_____"The Metro Cops are limp-wristed weaklings against the might of the   
prototype cyborgs that we manufacture. We now have the means... No, wait!"   
He stood up, dagger and gun held high. "I and only I ALONE have the means of   
taking power in this city! I alone will dominate the city, using the cyborg-  
creatures of blood and steel."  
_____Despite this outrageous statement, there were no voices of dissent from  
others at the table. No voice would say anything against the man who now  
stood with weapons: a dagger in his right hand and a gun in his left. Indeed,  
Mr. Grossberg was the one with the real power here!  
_____He continued, still holding dagger and gun, speaking to those seated at this   
table: "YES, it is through sheer power that I, the CEO of Network 66, shall   
become CEO of this ENTIRE CITY." He extended his right arm, used the dagger  
to point to the cityscape that stretched into the horizon.   
_____"There shall be NO competition. There shall be NO interference with my   
desires! First, I shall simply eliminate the Metro Cops' resistance. Then,   
with the Metro Cops' will broken, I shall move to assassinate all other   
corporate leaders...quickly following up that act by destroying the PETTY and   
TOKEN city government!  
_____"The final step in my plan will be the best step! I shall move in and   
take my seat as ruler of the city... I will be an EMPORER! Are there ANY   
questions? Speak now, or...ha ha...forever hold your peace."  
_____Still, no one at the table said anything. Some just stared at the ceiling.   
Some were relaxingly slumped sideways. A few of them were actually on the   
floor. Their poses were perfectly acceptable--because they were all dead.  
...  
_____Mr. Grossberg had brutally killed all the Members of The Board an hour   
ago, right here in this room. After the Members all took their seats, he   
simply told them that he was going to be the sole owner of Network 66. They,   
laughed at the idea: Ha-ha-ha, they were co-owners! How Mr. Grossberg going   
to take their ownership of Network 66 without them selling it?  
_____The CEO's answer came in the form of bullets and blade. The two servants   
sealed the doors, and Mr. Grossberg took out his gun and his dagger--killed   
each and every Board Member, the co-owners of this corporation. Grossberg was   
a muscular and tall man; the Board Members were skinny addicts of all sorts of   
drugs: cocaine, alcohol, and who-knew-what-else. So, the strong man was   
easily able to overpower and kill them.   
_____That, while Dr. Nova RAN to stand by the flan dispenser in the corner of   
the room. Eating flan, the labcoat-wearing madman watched Mr. Grossberg do   
his thing--the big CEO making short work of the high-ranking co-owners. Oh,   
Dr. Nova was not at all afraid; he saw this sort of blood-and-gore violence   
quite often back in Scrap Iron City.  
_____In killing the Members of the Board, Mr. Grossberg had emptied the gun of   
bullets. And his dagger was coated with dried blood. The cuffs of his dark   
business suit had become stiffened with the red stuff--the liquid that gushed   
from the chests and abdomens of the screaming, dying executives.   
_____All the while, doing his thing, the business-suited killer enjoyed every   
moment of it. He liked the feeling of his long dagger sinking into soft flesh.   
And he liked firing his gun, filling his victims with bullets. He liked seeing   
the high-ranking executives fall in their death throes, gasping and sighing as   
they sank from excited fright into relaxing death. Killing people felt very,  
very GO-O-O-D...   
_____After that, he had the two servants quickly prop the bodies up in the seats.   
If he was going to hold a proper meeting--GOD DAMNIT--there was GOING TO BE AN   
AUDIENCE! Even if the audience was dead! Well, at least most of the bodies   
stayed put--their dead eyes open. And by God, THAT was how that CEO held this   
Board meeting: smoking gun and bloody dagger. The room smelled richly of such  
blood despite the air circulation. There was also plenty of blood on the table   
table and carpet, but the CEO now felt too relaxed to care about that.   
...  
_____Now, here stood Mr. Grossberg in front of the big video screen on the wall:  
the room steeped in the sunset light from the window. Blood on the carpet.   
Blood on the table. Blood on Mr. Grossberg's hands and clothes.   
_____"...And so, Network 66 shall now move to TOTAL market domination, MY   
domination," he concluded. "The once-unbelievable corporate dream has now   
become believable. This, asit approaches reality. The future of my corporation  
is the future of the city--as it should be. Thank you all!" He bowed with arms   
out, bloodied weapons in his extended hands.   
_____With the corpses silent, the two servants at the door clapped their white-  
gloved hands together...cheering their master. With a conscious effort, Dr. Nova  
set down his bowl of flan--but not before taking one more spoonful. He then   
begann clapping as well.   
_____So long as he had a place to continue his experiments without interference,   
Dr. Nova was happy. No bounty hunter was going to get HIS head! And the flan   
made in this city was SO DELICIOUS! His mind awash in a vast imaginary ocean   
of flan, Dr. Nova clapped loud enough for even the dead to hear.  
...  
_____Mr. Grossberg was confident in his plan because of what was beneath this  
skyscraper--beneath Network 66 headquarters. Something extremely productive  
and extremely useful. Indeed, several stories under the concrete and asphalt   
of this area, there was a factory--a decent-sized underground one. And it was   
run by Network 66, of course: a factory used to make anything the executives   
wanted put onto the market.  
_____Up until now, this subterranian factory was used to manufacture mid-market  
things: small televisions (legal), marijuana (semi-legal), neurostim bracelets   
(illegal), goods of that sort. But now, it was being used to mass-produce   
something grotesque. Production moved more slowly, but the things being made   
here were especially valuable to the CEO.  
_____As sunset came to the city streets above, the underground converted   
factory rumbled and worked on. This was an underground cavernous space the   
size of a football field--filled with heavy machinery, conveyor belts, and   
the cables and pipes that connected them together. The only lighting here   
was provided by hundreds of florescent light-tubes attached to the concrete-and   
metal ceiling above.   
_____Every so often, technicians in white clothes, yellow boots, and white   
helmets would traipse through the maze of underground metal machinery--like   
gnomes in legendary mines of long ago. Or, the technicians could walk along   
some of the steel walkways suspended above the machines--catwalks.   
_____But, this denatured place was a realm of hot, thrumming automation. It   
was a place made by humanity, but dominated by machines. Machines that   
clunked, chunked and churned away--run by computers in a glassed-off office  
at the far end of this concrete cavern.   
_____And if a person listened carefully, the person could hear screams. These   
were screams that were drowned out by the thumping and thrumming sounds of the   
machines--just barely. Anyway, the screams didn't last long; the manufacturing   
process saw to that. What was made here now? Why, we're making simple-minded   
cyborgs! Obedient, vicious, and violent monsters of metal.  
...  
_____Later, having bathed and changed into a fresh suit, Mr. Grossberg took a   
sturdy elevator down to the computer-equipped factory office that ran the place.   
This smallish office was about the size of a classroom, concrete floor, with   
cyber-equipment along the left and right sides. At the front end of the   
office, there were three low computer terminals set in front of windows--giving  
a view over the concrete cavern of manufacturing machinery. The door to go out   
there was at the left of the controlling computer terminals.  
_____Stepping away from the two elevators, this CEO crossed the concrete floor  
and walked over to the three seated technicians in white clothing. "Hello,   
boys. How goes the revolution? Heh, heh, heh..."  
_____The white-clad technician at the center terminal swiveled around in his   
seat--a pale man with a greasy smile on his smarmy face. Pale, as he was   
underground so often for prolonged periods of time.   
_____"Good afternoon, Mr. Grossberg!" said that technician. He leaned forward  
in his swivel seat and began rubbing his hands together. Said, "Well, as you   
can see, we've put Dr. Nova's expertise into a standardized process. With his   
knowledge and my engineering, things are now up and running at full speed."  
He flashed his surprisingly white teeth and gestured to the computers. "As   
long as we can get the...ah, 'materials' we need, we can make as many s-type  
and p-type cyborgs as you feel necessary."  
_____Hearing this, Mr. Grossberg smiled as well. By "materials," in quotes,   
the technician meant fresh meat... Fresh HUMAN meat. It took quality meat to   
make quality cyborgs.   
...  
_____Somewhere down there on the factory floor, the "materials" were being   
lined up for the process. Live human beings were lined up--naked, scrubbed,   
and sprayed with sanitizing solutions that burned their eyes. Lined up like   
so much meat. Using electric cattleprods, the white-clad technicians made the   
naked and half-blinded people lie down on a big conveyor belt. Once they lied   
down on the conveyor belt, big clamps GRIPPED bare wrists and ankles.   
_____They didn't want to be here! While most of these people were from the  
Fringes, some of them were also from the downtown area. They had been knocked   
out and kidnapped in the latest cyborg raids on their streets. Now, they weregoing  
to be mutilated and CHANGED... Presumed dead and missing, now they were   
going to be made worse than dead.  
_____These people screamed and cried, their limbs struggling against the metal  
clamps. But the screams they gave were nothing compared to the awful sounds   
they would make when the process began! And, oh yes, there was going to be   
plenty of pain.  
_____Once the full batch of people had been strapped to the conveyor belt, it   
moved. It was moving the naked people into the noisy darkness of the machines.   
Like being swallowed by an open metal maw.   
_____X-ray scanners made 3-D images of their nervous systems: scanning how   
the brain and nerves were set in the body. Then, screams! A caustic and   
powerful chemical spray blasted off their skin and subcutaneous fatty tissue--  
making for naked muscle. Pain on top of pain, but no fainting! Because the   
process required that the people's brains remain awake, the chemical spray   
contained a stimulant that kept the victims from falling into the comfortable   
darkness of unconsciousness. Flayed alive by the chemical, the skinned people  
writhed.  
_____Moving on... Using the 3-d imaging of every person, the cutters further  
along the belt went to work on the human meat. With cutting and grinding   
sounds, the cutters concentrated on the skinless heads and necks--leaving   
bare brains attached to spinal cords and bodies. The robotic cutters were so   
precise that all the major blood vessels were missed when this process was   
done.   
_____Soon, the spines were chopped--the brains lifted away from the bodies.  
Pieces of the brain were cut away, especially along the front, and some   
microchips were put into place. Wires were attached to the spinal cords.   
This operations made for modified brains.   
_____These modified brains are then set into the open metal skulls of waiting  
robot-skeletons. The wires attached to the spinal cords were attached to   
circuitry inside the metal skulls, and small plastic tubes are attached to   
the brain's blood vessels. This step connected the modified brains to the   
metal skeletal bodies.  
_____Then came the finishing process, the closing up. After the diagnostics  
checks, insuring that the neurological and physiological connections are all   
OK, the simple cyborgs' skulls are welded shut. Rubber faces are then attached,  
faces with embedded synthetic muscle tissue for simple facial expressions.  
Simple facial expressions for simple cyborgs.  
_____Out of the darkness of the factory machines, the completed products came   
out: simple cyborgs. They looked all new and shiny, with their metal skeletons   
gleaming and their rubber faces so factory-fresh! And their beady camera-lens   
eyes glinted. These products were ready to be put work.  
...  
_____Six white-clad technicians organized them. These technicans used remotes   
controls to "tell" the simple cyborgs to walk into metal-fenced pens--packing   
them in tightly. With the previous type of cyborg, the prototype ones, they   
had to be directed with portable computers; these just had to be directed with   
simpler hand-held devices.   
_____Ah, nothing like finished products... These technicians used their   
remotes to "tell" the cyborgs where to walk and stop. One of the technicians  
even danced a bit in doing this work--listening to a song stuck in his head.   
This job really wasn't for sane people.   
_____On the metal walkway above the fenced-in cyborg pens, Mr. Grossberg and   
Dr. Nova looked down on a shiny new batch of simple cyborgs. Dr. Nova chewed   
away at endless spoonfuls of flan, and Mr. Grossberg gripped the handrail. The  
CEO's beady blue eyes were locked on the latest bunch of his new toys.  
_____Oh, Mr. Grossberg could not WAIT to put his toys to work! The simple   
cyborgs being made now would be used for the next phase of his plan--the   
domination of the city. Those terrorist attacks on parts of the city were   
used to seize more human meat. With more human meat, he made more simple   
cyborgs made. Particularly, he had THESE simple cyborgs made. And, within   
days, he could easily have sixty of the things. To use Dr. Nova's favorite  
adjective, this was...delicious! 


	8. Delsea Darkens

The Other Box: Chapter 8 (by Elliot Bowers)   
...  
Delsea Darkens  
...  
  
_____The first thing Gally felt was smoothness beneath her back--felt   
through the material of her blouse. It was cool, flat smoothness--metallic.   
Wait a moment... Her...skin?   
_____Yes, her skin. Not even opening her eyes, Gally knew how she looked: she  
now looked like a "normal" human girl. She felt and knew that her physique   
was synthetic flesh again: synthetic skin and artificial muscle tissue. And  
she knew how she was dressed. Black pleated skirt and white blouse, an outfit  
complete with black shoes and knee-length socks.   
_____Yes, she looked fully human, though her appearance was a lie. Her skin   
was not real, nor was the muscle tissue or bone beneath it: myogel muscle   
supported by a titanium skeleton. Silken dark hair made of polymer strands.   
Her eyes were made of engineered ceramics. Synthetics was still synthetics,  
regardless of how "real" it looked.  
_____And, like the last time, false memories filled her head... These were   
memories that were not hers, yet came to her anyway. They were memories of  
belonging to this place, memories that went with this alternate body. Such were   
unreal memories for a girl with an unreal body.  
_____Put all together, Gally knew that she must be back in the town of Delsea--  
where she was another person. A different mind and a different body. At this   
point, Gally could barely remember if she was herself.   
_____Was she herself? Or was being a sleek, metal-bodied killer a lie? Which  
memories fit the real Gally? Why this...?   
_____She had to think. Had to concentrate, had to get back to a real sense   
of herself... She thought back the most recently remembered moments. Otherwise,  
her sense of self would be gone.  
_____Just before this moment, Gally was with the Kindly Old Man. After the   
meeting, she had half-hoped for a return to the nameless city. And this   
cyborg-girl hoped that she could return at the exact time that she left. But,   
no. For some reason, the transition process that took her between the nameless   
city and the town of Delsea was a process that twisted time as a side-effect.   
_____But what somewhat puzzled Gally was another aspect of the transition: why  
how and why did her body change, and why the false memories? She could   
comprehend the idea of a device to twist time and space--space warping. Just   
perhaps, Dr. Nova's darkness-filled box was such a warping device. But, instead   
of just warping space, that accursed thing of darkness warped reality. That   
included Gally's reality.  
_____Finally opening her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling. It was a ceiling   
of perforated white tiles, with florescent lighting--an office-type of ceiling.   
This must be Dr. Nova's medical office. Sitting up on the edge of the table,   
the synthetic-bodied girl looked around just to be sure. Indeed, to the left   
of this metal table was the oversized computer Dr. Nova used to diagnose and   
treat problems with synth-type bodies. Right of the table, there were medical   
charts and a cabinet against the wall. The floor was hard and shiny.  
_____That's it: Gally had all the confimation she needed. This office, she   
"remembered," only existed in Delsea--a town where everyone lived with pre-cyborg   
technologies. This is a town where Dr. Nova is loved and appreciated because   
of his "amazing" knowledge and skill. This is also the town, she remembered,   
in which a certain dark disease started brewing...   
_____What would happen if she caught that strange disease, that black bile   
affliction? She thought back to the victims she encountered: both in Delsea  
and in the nameless city. Those infected with the disease seemed simply ill   
at first: physical ailment. This continues as blood and body chemistry is   
radically changed. Under any other circumstances, even certain minute changes  
in body chemistry could kill a person.   
_____Yet the black bile disease somehow kept its victims alive--long enough to   
drive them into a berserker-rage. It must be horrible, to be physically ill   
while slowly losing one's mind. If Gally's brain were infected, then she   
would no longer be herself. She wondered how it would feel to be alive while  
one's brain rotted bit by bit, as she slowly became a mindless killing machine...   
_____But, wasn't that what she became sometimes? A killing machine whose mind  
was consumed with white fury? Yet, even in the deepest heat of battle, there   
was always a small corner of her mind that KNEW she was still herself.   
_____Her eyes then moved to look on one of the medical charts on the right-side   
wall. One of them was a cut-away illustration of the human head--showing the   
parts inside skull. The black bile illness first changed the body, then   
closed in on the cerebrum...  
_____The doorknob turned, and Dr. Nova's nurse stepped in. A slender, red-haired  
woman in white uniform, Gally remembered that she was dangerous. That woman in  
white was also a cyborg, a synth-flesh one--like the girl here was now. This  
way, Dr. Nova had himself an assistant and bodyguard.  
_____The nurse now came within a meter from the patient. It was close enough   
to comfortably speak. And, it was close enough to intimidate.   
_____"Well, I see that our little darling has finished her nappy-bye!" said   
the nurse. She then patted Gally on the head--getting a glare in return.   
"Aww, are you feeling GUMPY? How about a game? A guessing game?" No response  
from the girl sitting on the table. "Okay, three guesses. Guess what delicious   
food Dr. Nova had to fill his tummy!"  
_____"HE CONSUMED FLAN, FOOL!" shouted Gally, her young voice seeming to   
explode with loudness in this quiet room. The nurse did not even flinch at   
the outburst. "Flan is but the ONLY food he consumes! A prominent aspect of   
his MADNESS!"  
_____Despite the outburst, the nurse smiled. Not a nice smile, though. "You   
know what? I don't like being yelled at. Rude little bitch!" THWACK!   
_____...The next thing Gally knew, she lie stunned on the floor, lying beneath   
where the medical charts were hung against the wall. Her head was filled with   
dizziness and sparkles of pain... She dimly remembered the nurse's right   
hand moving impossibly fast. Moving blur-quick.   
_____The nurse took two quick steps, and she was suddenly here--standing over   
the petite dark-haired girl. "Now look what you made me do to you!" said the   
nurse. "You look really messed up... Your hair is all messy, and your blouse   
is all untucked...!" She reached down and lifted Gally by the neck. "Get over   
here!"  
_____Using just one slender arm, the nurse carried the stunned limp girl back  
to the table--still carried by the neck. She then lowered the patient, setting   
her atop the metal surface. As Gally sat dazed, the nurse first fussed with   
the waistband of Gally's skirt, tucking in the blouse. Then she began patting   
and stroking the silky dark hair into place.  
_____"A mess, a REAL mess, little girl... At least, now you'll look more   
presentable. You know, you ought not fool with me--especially after what I   
had for lunch." The nurse glanced at the medical chart on the wall.   
_____"You ate...brains?" asked Gally. Then she felt a fresh wave of dizziness   
wash over her. The dizziness...could have been caused by a concussion. Or,   
it could have been caused by fear.  
_____"Sure, free brains for lunch! HUMAN brains, the tastiest!" answered the   
nurse. "You know what? There are perks that go with working in the medical   
profession, especially with the latest disease that's going around now." She   
put her hands on her hips. "Just think... Dead bodies going to waste, about   
to be buried. It's like throwing away food! So Dr. Nova has some of his   
friends in the morgue take out and save the brains...for me! And if the   
corpses' heads are empty when they bury them at funerals, who's going to know?   
Best of all..." At this point, the nurse leaned closer to Gally.   
_____"Best of all, eating brains feels tastier than sex. Well, not that you'd   
know that! But it's the thought that counts. Ha ha ha ha ha...!"  
_____Gally clenched her pale hands, fingernails into palms. She would not have  
her brain eaten so easily. She would not die without a last fight.   
_____The nurse stopped laughing, but she still had a cheery tone to her voice.   
"Oh, don't be silly! I'm not interested in YOUR brain right now. I just ate.   
Besides, Dr. Nova tells me that your brain is denatured anyway--filled with   
some kind of advanced engineered chemical. So now your think-meat probably   
tastes like ground-up, soggy television parts. Anyway, the good doctor is   
still in the reception room..."   
_____The door opened, and... "Why, speak of the devil!" exclaimed the nurse.   
In walked the labcoat-wearing doctor himself, his coat worn over buttoned shirt   
and slacks. Completing his outfit was an ugly tie around his neck and a bowl   
of flan in his left hand.   
_____"Mmm... How delicious this is!" he began. "Good afternoon, Gally. I see   
that you have finally come to consciousness. This time, your transition took   
three weeks and six hours. Yet, you departed before I did."   
_____Large dark eyes on the flan-eating doctor, Gally spoke. "Dr. Nova, why  
do you do this? What is this game you play? By now, you must have performed   
your reality-bending experiment several times over. Your box-device clearly   
works. Now, let us talk of restoring things as they were..."  
_____Dr. Nova's spoon stopped halfway to his mouth. "Restoring things as they   
were, hmm? Bring us back to Scrap Iron City, where I can't perform the best  
of my reality-bending experiments without being hunted down by bounty hunters?  
Hmmm..." He brought the spoonful of flan to his mouth, chewed it thoughtfully.  
"Hmm... MMMH!"   
_____Swallowing the flan, he answered. "Well, my dear, that may not be possible  
at this time. For one point, the device is not quite MY box. It is not under  
my control. The device seems to go where it pleases, as if it posesses its   
own will... Which brings me to my second point." He took another spoonful of   
flan. "For another point, THE box is too unstable to be controlled. In fact,   
it seldom remains in a specific form for too long. Think of the box as a   
'kink' in reality, a glitch...not necessarily as a solid object, per se.   
It's an anomaly."   
_____Oh, Dr. Nova was in lecture mode now! Talking up his audience of two, he  
continued. "Well, how? Can such an object exist? My latest theory is that   
the laws of the universe--or our reality--are not flawless. Perhaps, due to   
the laws of probability, glitches in reality do occur... Like, THE box--a   
glitch!   
_____"I rambling, I'm sorry. But my theories on THE box still require further   
development. Yes, more and more experiments! And if you and I are to flip  
between two alternate realities, so be it. In the meanwhile, this flan is   
truly tasty! It is seriously and seductively scrumptious! Deeply delicious!"   
_____Annoyed, Gally waited for Dr. Nova to come back from his flan-filled   
state-of-mind. The nurse crossed her arms and smiled that pretty--but   
false--smile of hers. Both synthetic-bodied females waited for the doctor   
to stop spooning that sweet-smelling stuff into his mouth.  
_____Omph! Mrmph! Munch, munch, gulp... "AHEM! Well now, as I was saying   
to you both, THE box is a manifestation of something. THE box is an anomaly.   
Gally, you have been present whenever the box opens. You know what happens...   
Flan!"  
_____"Yet, what is the role of the Kindly Old Man?" asked Gally, crossing her  
arms. "Is he but another anomaly? Just another so-called 'kink' in reality?   
Or... Is his presence deliberate?" She stared, waiting for an answer.  
_____"The Kindly Old Man?" asked Dr. Nova, a nervous smile on his face. "Ha-ha,  
what do you mean by that?" Fine beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.   
The doctor was clearly nervous, jittery.   
_____"Well, ha-ha... Don't talk about HIM. As things stand, I do not have   
extensive data on him--or it. Therefore, I presume HIM to be a side-effect of   
THE box. I will admit that he seems to be much more than that, but the latter   
explanation is sufficient." He shrugged, then changed the subject. "By the   
way, your parents are waiting for you. And, more flan is waiting for me!" He   
then quickly scampered out of the room, clutching his bowl of flan, leaving  
Gally here with the nurse.  
...  
_____Elsewhere in Delsea, in the suburban residential area, a particular group  
of teenagers hung around a friend's front porch. This was Ralph's house, and  
three of his friends were here. Just sitting and standing around, talking   
about life-in-general. The two girls wore blouses and long skirts; the two   
boys had on jeans and white tee-shirts--one of them wearing a leather   
jacket over his shirt. Young and relatively carefree, they were typical   
youths of Delsea.  
_____The one with the leather jacket wore it more stylishly than anyone else   
in town. He was Fonzie; of COURSE his leather jacket looked cooler than   
anyone else's jacket. Sitting on this porch, he listened to the girl sitting   
on a lower step. The girl was Susie, Ralph's girlfriend. And she was sounding   
worried about that freaky disease going around...  
_____It was pretty odd, talking about a dark subject on a pretty afternoon   
like this. And the weather matched the neighborhood: This was a nice-looking   
neighborhood, as were most places here in Delsea. A neat and clean-looking   
street, with nice-sized houses amidst greenery. Green grass and trees were   
also in this neighborhood. And the wind gently blew through. Though carefree,   
the youths of Delsea were not totally so.  
_____"...It's like something's eating people, from the inside," said Susie  
at this point. "My cousin Joe had a really nice dog, you know? One day, it   
got bit by some squirrel. Next day, the police come by and kill the poor thing."   
She wrapped her blouse-sleeved arms around herself--hugging herself. "If we   
all get the black bile disease and go crazy, I wonder what's going to happen..."  
_____Ralph got up from this porch. "No, no, no... Don't say THAT, Susie!   
This isn't like the Middle Ages. We've got science, and machines, and all   
that sort of stuff! If we get sick, the scientists and the doctors will use   
machines and... And science stuff to cure us! Fonzie, back me up!"  
_____Fonzie glanced at the thin blonde girl, glanced up at Ralph, then rolled   
his eyes. "I thought Susie here was YOUR girl, Ralphie. And I don't think   
you want that fact to change, do ya? Because once a girl gets comforted by   
the Fonze..." Fonzie spread out his arms, indicating himself. "Once she's   
comforted by my arms, the girl DOESN'T GO BACK. So it's your show, Ralphie-boy!   
Tell Susie here not to worry herself to death."  
_____"What? Hmmph..." Ralph looked to Fonzie's own girlfriend--Lynette,   
sitting next to Fonzie on the porch. Though she and Susie both wore the same  
style of clothes, Lynette wore a different mindset. She was known as a bold   
girl. A dark-haired, sexy-looking girl with attitude, Lynette was a good   
match for Fonzie.  
_____"Okay..." began Ralph. "Lynette, help me tell Susie that everything's   
going to be alright. Tell her about who can help us."   
_____Lynette reached into her purse and took out some chewing gum. She put   
it in her mouth, chewed it a bit. And, she mentally chewed on thoughts regarding  
what to say to worrried Susie here. She came up with something to say.  
_____"Alright, Susie..." said Fonzie's girlfriend. "Things are going to be   
alright. Like Ralphie here said, we've got science and machines on our side.   
And if things aren't gonna be alright... Well, what's the use of worrying?  
Worrying doesn't make problems go away. Worrying is a waste of mental energy.  
If we all get sick, then we all get sick--simple."  
_____Leaning forward from where he sat, Fonzie spoke up. "Yeah, that's very  
well put there! If we're all gonna die, then we're all just gonna die. Worryin'  
just makes life scarier. Ya know what I'm sayin'? I like to try and save my   
WORRY for stuff I can fix... Like motorcycles at work."  
_____Closing her eyes, Susie shook her head. "No, Fonze. Don't try to compare   
people to darned motorcycles! Don't you realize that something really, really  
serious is happening? It's real! And we're all going to suffer!"   
_____"Aww, don't be like THAT!" answered Fonzie, looking down at the blonde   
girl on the lower step. "I know somethin' serious is happenin', Susie. But  
let me repeat... I like to save my worryin'. If everybody in Delsea is gonna  
die, and there's nothin' we can do 'bout it, then what's the use? Why worry?"   
_____Lynette inched over closer to where Susie sat. Chewing her gum, she   
looked at the blonde girl. Said, "Besides, thanks to Dr. Nova's fancy new  
medical procedure-thing, Fonzie's motorcycle metaphor ain't too far off. We  
can all be fixed to be like machines on the inside."   
_____"Thank you, doll! Thank YOU!" said Fonzie. "Yeah, think about it, Sue.  
We're pretty damned LUCKY that the flan-man himself came all the way here  
from Harvard-school--or WHEREVER--to be in this town. If we get sick...   
Batta-bing, batta-BOOM, we just walk ourselves over to Dr. Nova's medical   
garage and get ourselves fixed up. That man's the best doctor in the whole   
world right about now!"  
_____Ralph went closer to Susie on the porch. "Yeah, Sue. Listen to them.  
We've got the best doctor in the world looking out for us! If there were   
really reasons to worry, Dr. Nova would tell us all about it."  
...  
_____By a sheerly brutal coincidence, there were three teenage boys elsewhere  
in town who were suffering from the disease being worried about. They were in   
someone's back yard, kneeling on the grass--clutching their abdomens. Mouths   
open, they began to retch and spasm. Wait, here it comes...  
_____"Bleah-h-h...!" Yes, up it came! Up from their stomachs and out of   
their mouths, it was a loathsome, disgusting glop. And it was a loathsome glop  
that came from their infected bodies.  
_____The substance wasn't vomit. Vomit would have been better than THAT stuff.   
Indeed, anything short of poison would have been better. But it wasn't poison  
or vomit... It was something much worse. The three boys in that back yard   
had vomited the dark, shiny stuff--the black bile. They had THE disease.  
_____As they vomited, they began to lose what was left of their minds while   
losing what was in their stomachs. Their brains underwent the last stages of   
a horrible metamorphisis, something not too different from death. Of course,   
the biochemical makeup of their bodies had already undergone the change caused   
by the disease; the brain was the final thing to undergo such changes.   
_____By the time they stopped vomiting, their brains would no longer be theirs.   
Their brains would belong to the disease. They would become rabid, mindless   
monsters that only wore human bodies.  
...  
_____Back at Ralph's house, Fonzie brough up a point to counter what Susie  
just said. Then she had changed the subject--started talking about Gally.   
Susie said something about Gally being a bit crazy because her body wasn't  
real.  
_____"Wait a second! WAIT A SECOND!" said Fonzie. "Susie, d'you think somethin'   
is WRONG with Gally? She's like the little sister I never had! She's cool--a   
doll of a girl that can talk sweet AND can kick some serious tail!"   
_____Lynette reached back to slap one of Fonzie's shins. "Hey-y-y! I mean,  
you can kick but too, Lynette. Not that I especially go for that tail-  
kickin' aspect of your particular demeanor, but you look good enough to go  
out with me!" Thwack! "Hey-y-y! Lay off the MATERIAL, will ya?"  
_____Susie took on a thoughtful look. "You know what? Whenever I think too  
much about Gally or Dr. Nova, I sometimes get a funny sort of feeling in my  
head. I try to think back to when I first met either of them, and then..."  
She shrugged. "I don't know. It's just weird."   
_____"Hmmph," went Ralph, "I thought that I was the only one. Now that I think  
about it, they're both a little bit odd. Maybe it's because they're foreign.  
I don't know where Dr. Nova came from, but Gally is definitely Japanese..."  
_____Ralph was talking, but Fonzie's attention was only partially on what was   
being said. His ears were hearing Ralph, but his eyes were seeing somebody  
completely different... Over there, at the street. "Ralphie-boy, you got a   
camera?"  
_____The teen looked confused. "What does that have to do with what we're   
talking about? A camera? Wait, what's everybody looking at?" He turned around   
to look at the neighborhood street. "Oh-h-h..."  
_____"A camera, A CAMERA!" said Fonzie, making gestures with his hands, as if   
holding a photograph-taking device. "There he is AGAIN! Look at 'em!" Indeed,   
Fonzie was seeing HIM, the Kindly Old Man.   
_____The Kindly Old Man was now walking down the street. His legs seemed to   
be moving normally, but he was only going about half the speed of a normal   
person... That creepy old guy must be walking on air!  
_____"Damn," went Lynette, "I'm seeing HIM for the first time, and he's REALLY   
CREEPIN' ME OUT! Fonzie, I pretty much believe most of what you say, but I   
almost didn't believe in that Kindly Old Man you told me about. But now...!"  
_____Now, there HE was, real and solid as day. He was exactly the way Fonzie   
and some other people described HIM. The Kindly Old Man was even wearing the   
suspenders.  
_____"This can't be real," said Ralph, extremely afraid. "I'm gonna be sick!"   
Then he ran up the steps everyone else was sitting on, ran into the house and   
into the bathroom. Obviously, he suddenly had to use the toilet.  
_____Nonplussed by Ralph's sudden departure, Fonzie got up from the porch steps.   
"Tell ya what, girls... I'm goin' over there to try an' unravel some of the   
mystery surrounding that mystery-man. Wait right here..." Then, he went   
over there.  
_____Walking with a confident stride, the cool guy crossed the front yard--  
approaching that old man in slacks, button shirt and suspenders. But he   
never quite made it over there.   
_____Halfway across the yard, Fonzie felt a bit dizzy. No, He felt really   
dizzy. He shook his head, then went to a knee. The Kindly Old Man continued   
going along the street.  
_____Lynette ran over to Fonzie. She knelt close to him, wrapped her   
slender arms around his torso. "Baby, what did that spooky old guy do to   
you? Talk to me..."  
_____Blinking once, Fonzie recovered his senses. "I just had this idea come  
into my head, ya know?" He gently pushed Lynette away. "I'm gonna follow   
'em. Wait here."   
...  
_____With Lynette and Susie watching (and Ralph still in his house), Fonzie   
straightened the collar of his leather jacket. Then, eyes ahead, he went to   
the street--began to follow the creepy old guy in white. Man, he didn't want   
to do this! A weird feeling in his gut, a buzzing headache in his head, all   
of that feeling... But Fonzie just said to his friends he was going to   
follow the Kindly Old Man. And "the Fonze" is a man who does not break his   
word! He would NOT chicken out.  
_____Weird... The Kindly Old Man stopped at the intersection at the far end  
of the street--like he was waiting for Fonzie. Slowing up his walk, Fonzie   
played it cool. He hoped the Kindly Old Man chose a direction before he got   
to the intersection. Otherwise, Fonzie would have to stop at the same place;   
then he would have to confront him.   
_____But, he didn't. Shuffling his feet, the Kindly Old Man turned right and   
went. He walked beyond some shrubs at the intersection. Almost going out of  
sight... Damn those corner hedges!  
_____Quickening his pace a bit, Fonzie followed. Good, there was some wind.  
The wind would cover up the sound of his riding boots on the sidewalk... The  
freaky phantom shouldn't hear him following.  
_____Wait a second...! PHANTOM? Fonzie almost laughed at himself for thinking   
that. Whoever said the Kindly Old Man was a PHANTOM? For all Fonzie cared,   
the Kindly Old Man was just a little funny in the head. He was just somebody   
who didn't act like everyone else did. He was not some ghost-thing!  
_____Still walking eighteen meters' distance behind that weird old guy in white,   
Fonzie was sure to take glances at other houses--acting like he was a bit lost.   
When the Kindly Old Man came to another intersection in this neighborhood,   
Fonzie crossed the street and went to the sidewalk at the left side of the   
street. The Kindly Old Man kept going along the right side of the street   
until...   
_____There was a bit more wind, making for a pretty breezy afternoon. Then,  
the Kindly Old Man began going faster...pretty fast for someone with wrinkles   
and gray hair. Fonzie strode faster. He found himself almost jogging to keep   
the Kindly Old Man in sight. But the old guy's legs didn't seem to be moving   
any quicker! What the HECK is going on here? Where is the old guy going,   
anyway?  
...  
_____Hmmph... Fifteen minutes later, walking and striding, Fonzie still kept   
trailing the Kindly Old Man--keeping him in view. "The Fonze" kept his doubts   
in mind, and he kept out of sight. Doubts in mind, he followed for at least   
a mile. And this part of the residential area was beginning to look just a   
bit familiar.  
_____In this part of the town's residential area, there were just a bit more   
trees. And most of the houses didn't have white picket fences, showing off  
the extra-nice lawns. Fonzie glanced around once more to get his bearings,   
then he noticed that the Kindly Old Man stopped.  
_____What the Hell! Surprised, the rhythm of Fonzie's stride stuttered, but   
he didn't trip over. So what, the Kindly Old Man stopped at a particular   
house? And whatever the old guy was doing here, Fonzie didn't care. He could   
now turn around and tell Ralphie-boy and company where the Kindly Old Man   
stopped.  
_____Or, at least he would have--if he didn't have to defend himself at this   
particular point. Just as he was about to turn and get back to Ralphie's place   
and give the news, he heard fast and angry footsteps. He now spun around to   
see what the noise was... Oh, damn!  
_____Coming along the sidewalk, running hunched-over, there was a beefy-looking   
blond teenage guy coming right at him! There was some dark stuff on the guy's   
tee shirt and jeans that could have been motor oil. But the eyes looked wrong.   
The eyes...!  
_____Fonzie saw that sort of look only once before, but he never forgot it. It was   
the look of someone with the black bile disease. Setting his feet apart and   
clenching his hands into fists, this cool guy with black leather jacket got   
ready to deal with what was definitely going to be trouble.  
....  
_____The black bile victim sped up, arms out. This was going to be a full-force   
tackle. Ready to knock Fonzie down! Too bad, Fonzie jumped to the left and  
onto the grass of a nearby yard--tumbling once.   
_____Getting up from the dodge, Fonzie quickly brushed off his jacket and   
jeans. He then saw the strong-looking blond guy SKID to a stop. Yes, he was  
moving that fast.   
_____Damn, he was going to try that same football tackle again! Fonzie stooped  
slightly, fists clenched. And the blond guy came with that same run. Coming  
closer.... Almost...  
_____THWACK! Fonzie felt the impact on the knuckles of right fist. He had   
hit the guy with a right hook just at the right moment. Warm wetness splattered  
up into the air, dripping from the shattered nose of the blond guy. But the  
stuff wasn't red blood. It didn't even look like blood.   
_____"What the...?" went Fonzie, quickly brushing his right fist on his pants'  
cuffs. He didn't want this stuff on him! This was that bile-shit!   
____As he did this, the blond guy staggered a bit, blinking hard. The punch   
should have knocked him out, but didn't. Instead, the blond guy came walking   
at Fonzie.  
_____Fonzie clenched his fists, ready to finish the blond guy off. But the blond   
guy struck first, hitting Fonzie in the gut. He followed that with a blow to   
the face! "The Fonze" staggered backwards a step and went to a knee--kneeling.  
_____Eyes wide and bloodshot, nose freely dripping, the blond guy now spread   
his arms, tilted back his head and HOW-W-WLED. It was the sort of sound   
normally only heard out in the wilderness, late at night, when animals roamed   
the dark wilds. But this was the afternoon, in the suburbs, and this guy was   
making the sound like a natural!  
_____Then, that blond black bile victim looked down at Fonzie. Jaws slack,   
broken nose dripping, the infected guy started looking less human. Like, he   
was going to do something...!   
_____Fonzie wasn't going to be done in by a savage animal! Still kneeling, he   
grabbed his right fist in his left hand--forming a double-fist. He then stood   
and SWUNG up at the same time.  
_____The effect was spectacular. When the double-fisted blow HIT, the blonde  
guy was knocked off his feet. Darkened blood splashed upward. Then, he landed  
hard onto the sidewalk. The back of his head made a hard cracking sound when  
it struck the concrete. But then he tried to get up...AGAIN!   
_____"No WAY!" said Fonzie. Almost mercifully, he booted the guy in the chest.  
A really solid THUMP! Coughing once, the blond guy went back down. This time,  
he did not stand up again. Good, this fight was done...   
_____Fonzie looked around. The Kindly Old Man was gone. Hmmph, maybe the   
fight scared him off? Nah, he didn't think so.  
...  
_____Well, now to get things squared away. Fonzie just couldn't leave the   
blond guy there. It wouldn't be right. That, though he KNEW that the guy was   
as good as dead--if not from the injuries, but from the black bile disease.   
Nobody recovered from the black bile, but maybe the hospital could keep the  
guy alive until that really smart doctor could look him over... Yeah, maybe   
Dr. Nova would come up with a quickie-cure just in time.  
_____As for himself, Fonzie would be fine. He felt as if someone slammed a  
wrecking ball into his chest, and the right side of his face felt broke, but  
he'd live. Clutching his abdomen, he used his booted right foot to turn the   
blond guy onto his back--so the guy wouldn't choke to death on his own blood...  
IF that dark stuff could still be called blood. Then, Fonzie stagger-walked   
over to the nearest house. Front door...  
_____Knock-knock. A high school girl answered the door. And she promptly put  
her small hands to her round face. "Fonzie!" she squealed. "What happened?"   
She knew him; EVERYBODY knew "the Fonze."  
_____Fonzie jerked his left thumb towards the sidewalk. "See that guy laid out   
there on the sidewalk?" The high school girl nodded. "He happened. Then, I   
happened to him! Know what I'm sayin'. Now, be a Good Samaratin and call an   
ambulance for his sorry self. Lock your door, too. More of those infected   
freaks could still be around here."   
_____The high school girl gave a glance to the guy on the sidewalk, then returned  
her worried blue eyes to Fonzie. "What about YOU! You're hurt! If you wait,   
I could take care of you until the ambulance..." But Fonzie gave a wave of   
his left hand, interrupting.  
_____"No thanks... I'm feelin' a little better already." He straightened up   
a bit, though the ache in his midsection still pained him. "I've gotta go   
talk to somebody else about this first. Just do me the favor of calling help   
for that black bile victim over there. See ya around, toots."   
_____That said, "the Fonze" turned from the door and did his best to walk   
normally over to the sidewalk--despite the ache in his face and in his midsection.   
Most certainly, the blows were going to leave bruises... He had been in fights   
before, once before with a black bile victim. This was his second encounter with   
one of those infected people, and he almost lost.   
_____Now, he REALLY had to get over to where he was going now. It was a place  
not too far away. Walking with just a little bit of stagger, he continued along  
the sidewalk. Getting away from that blond guy. And, "the Fonze" hoped he   
didn't have another encounter. One for today was enough.   
...  
_____Luckily, he didn't have any more encounters en route to his destination.  
It was nearing 6:00 p.m. by the time he arrived. Though the pain in his gut   
lessened, his face still had a hot and aching sort of pain from that hit. He   
was able to walk normally by the time he came to a particular house somewhere   
else in these suburbs--a nice house with a white-picket fence and a small   
decorative flower garden up front. Yeah, a nice-looking place, but Fonzie   
knew that the toughest--yet cutest--girl in Delsea lived here. Heck, she was   
the toughest girl that ever lived, probably!  
_____Rubbing the right side of his face, then instantly regretting it because  
of the pain, Fonzie knocked on the front door with the knuckles of his left   
hand. Knock-knock...   
_____A mousy haired sort of woman answered the door, dressed in a housedress   
and apron. An avereage and very plain housewife of a woman. "Hello,   
Alphonse..." she began, greeting Fonzie by his proper name. Then came her   
look of shock. "Oh MY GOODNESS! What happened to you?"  
_____Fonzie turned his head to the right and down. "Aww... Nothin' happened,  
okay? Uh-h-h, can I talk to Gally? It's sorta about some advice. I've gotta  
ask her some things."  
_____The housewife put her hands on her hips. "Well, young man! The FIRST  
thing we're going to do is to see to your hurts. I don't think you'd be able  
to hold ANY sort of conversation with ANYONE if you look set to pass out!   
During the War, I was a nurse!" She opened the front door, then grabbed   
Fonzie by a sleeve of his black leather jacket. "Come in here, right this   
instant! We'll see about that developing bruise...and that stomach-ache!"  
_____Damn, and Fonzie thought he was doing a good job his hiding his hurt!   
Trying to decide between not being rude and not being babied, he was easily   
pulled into the house by Gally's adopted mother. This was too much!  
...  
_____Inside the well-furnished and spotless living room, the housewife set   
Fonzie on the sofa. The husband was comfortably dressed, sitting in an   
armchair. He was reading today's newspaper. He lowered it to look at the   
newly arrived guest.   
_____"Well, well, well!" he said, looking at the familiar guy in black leather   
jacket. "Looks like you've been in quite a dust-up, young man! Ha ha! When   
I was your age, I've had my share of fisticuffs. Quite a troublemaker, I was."  
_____As the husband sat right of the sofa, he was in plain sight of Fonzie's  
facial damage. "To tell the truth, Mr. D," said Fonzie, "I didn't wanna get  
into a 'dust-up' with that particular individual. Anyway, he wasn't the right  
sorta state of mind when he rushed me." His voice lowered in tone... "And,  
I don't think he'll ever be in his right state of mind ever again--if you get  
my drift. The disease, ya know?"  
_____The husband went quiet for a moment, thinking on that. "Hmmph... Yes, it's   
just so," he finally said. "That 'black bile' disease is the newest trouble,  
isn't it? It seems like this town is the only place to have it--fortunately   
or unfortunately, depending on your outlook."   
_____Fonzie nodded. "Yeah, I know what you're sayin'. Then again, we're also  
pretty lucky to have the country's smartest doctor around. By the way, I came   
here to speak with his premier patient...your daughter. She around?"  
_____The housewife came bustling back in, a closed cloth bag in her left   
hand and a glass of water in her right. She came over to the sofa, gave the  
cloth bag to Fonzie--an ice-bag. "Now, Fonzie... Put this over your right  
cheek, and drink this glass of water. I dissolved powdered aspirin in it.   
The pain ought to go away in a few minutes."  
_____"Aww... Thanks, Mrs. D. You really know how to care for a guy." said   
Fonzie. He held the ice-bag to the side of his face that ached hurt. Then  
he began drinking the water with the dissolved asprin. "I was just sayin', I  
came by here to talk to Gally."   
_____The housewife stood up, hands on hips. "You know, it's the oddest thing...   
She had a bowl of chocolate ice cream with sugar, then went straight off to   
shower and bed. Normally, all of those sweets would make a young lady go   
hopping around like mad--but Gally isn't like any young lady now. She's sleeping  
now, and I'm afraid you'll have to come back tomorrow."  
_____"My name was mentioned," said a young voice from the stairway. Fonzie   
twisted around on the sofa to look, and he saw the slender girl dressed in   
loose pants and sleeveless top--shoulder-length dark hair looking slightly   
damp and limp. "If you wish to speak to me, that can be done." She padded   
away from the stairs on small bare feet, moving with no sound.  
_____The housewife shook her head. "No! Gally, you'll catch cold! Go put on   
a robe right this instant! I don't know exactly what type of customs you   
practiced as a younger child in Japan, but while you're living here under this   
roof, you'll..."  
_____"She'll do no such thing!" said the husband. "She won't ever catch a cold, or  
any other sort of bodily illness. Dr. Nova's operation saw to that! And if she wants   
to talk to Fonzie, let her." He then pulled up his newspaper, continued reading it.  
_____The housewife went away from the sofa. Gally walked over. She sat to  
Fonzie's right, pulled her knees up to her chest and crossed her pale lithe  
arms. Large dark eyes on Fonzie, she waited for him to talk.   
_____He spoke, though the ice-bag on his numb face encumbered his speech a bit.   
"You see... It sorta goes like this, Gally. I was sittin' around with Lynette,   
Ralphie, and Susie. Just talkin' about STUFF. Then HE came along Ralphie's   
street. You know, the Kindly Old Man. An' I decided to follow HIM, just to  
check things out. I was feelin' a little creeped out an' all, but I followed   
him regardless. Oh, man! What a mistake! WHAT a MIS-TAKE!"   
_____According to her false memories, Gally knew that Fonzie was very skilled  
at anything he did--be it repairing vehicles, talking to people or defending  
his honor against the rare rival. But, against someone made insane by the   
black bile disease, no one could walk away uninjured. Fonzie must have run  
into that sort of trouble.  
_____"I now assume that your pursuit of the Kindly Old Man was...interrupted,"  
she said. "And, you were correct to have tried to follow him." She half-closed   
her eyes. Said, "The Kindly Old Man knows a great deal about what is happening,  
yet he is unable to directly tell exactly what happens. Because, he is unable  
to communicate as ordinary people do."  
_____The uninjured half of Fonzie's face looked surprised. "Huh? Whaddaya  
mean the Kindly Old Man knows 'exactly what's going on'? Not even Dr. Nova   
knows exactly what's goin' on here in Delsea. Like, where did the freakin'   
black bile disease come from? Why is it only in this town? And why is the   
Kindly Old Man here?   
_____"Ya know what? I once went to Nova's office and asked 'em about   
miscellaneous stuff. And, of course, I asked him if there was ever gonna be   
a cure. He said that he was workin' on the aanswer. But when he said that,   
he patted a weird wooden box on his desk. Then he said to me, 'The solution   
and the truth are in THE box.' What's he mean by that?"  
_____THE box? Oh yes, Gally knew what Dr. Nova meant by what he said to   
Fonzie. Or, she had an idea as to what Dr. Nova meant. The flan-obsessed   
metaphysicist was still trying to analyze the reality-twisting properties of THE box.   
That object was extremely powerful--and dangerous. Still, Nova would not stop   
until he could use it for whatever purpose he wanted.  
_____"Hey, don't look like that," said Fonzie, shifting himself on this sofa.   
"You got really quiet all of a sudden. What'd I say?" He readjusted the   
ice-bag, wincing a bit. But the asprin was beginning to kick in.   
_____Putting her feet to the carpeted floor, Gally looked down. She wondered  
how she could make this revelation. According to her false memories of this town,   
Dr. Nova was highly respected and highly admired as a medical scientist.. No,   
admired as a medical GENIUS. People here put him on par with someone named   
Albert Einstein.   
_____The truth was, according to the clues given by the Kindly Old Man, Dr.   
Nova was indirectly responsible for starting the so-called 'black bile'   
illness here in Delsea. But she could not tell these people that. It would   
be like saying that all parents are liars and want to eat the brains of their   
children. That sounded disgusting, but worse things have sometimes happened   
in her original hometown of Scrap Iron City.   
_____In that dark city, some parents HAVE eaten their children's brains...   
That and worse, if such could be imagined. But Gally could imagine. There   
was so much more that Gally knew--she knew more trouble than those of this   
place did. Maybe, it was better that way.  
...  
_____Over in the more urban part of Delsea, Dr. Nova was at work in the store-  
front building that housed his medical practice. He was in the back, in the   
machinery-equipped room, trying to set up an experiment with THE box. The  
first thing to do was put it in a relative vacuum.  
_____Such primitive technology! He could not find a hard-vacuum field generator  
in this town, so he had to make do with something that came close: an annealed  
glass case attached to a hand-pump. Now, with the glass case atop the metal   
table, he had the nurse work the hand-pump. Inside the case was none other   
than THE box.  
_____The nurse kept working the pump... Had the flesh of her slender arms   
been real, her arms would have tired minutes ago. But because she had the   
strength of artificial muscle, she could pump Dr. Nova's pump all day.  
_____All the while, Dr. Nova stood close by. He regarded the pressure gauge  
on the case... Hmm, no change! "Damn this technology! Unable to create a simple   
hard vacuum!" He hit the annealed glass case with THE box in it, making it all   
tumble. Inside the case, THE box opened, and darkness swept over everything.  
...  
_____Something else happened elsewhere in Delsea. "You're doin' it again,   
Gally," said Fonzie. "Gettin' quiet all of a sudden." As soon as he said   
those words, the synthetic-bodied girl disappeared. She went away again. 


	9. The Battles for Downtown

The Other Box: Chapter 9 (by Elliot Bowers)  
..  
The Battles for Downtown  
...  
_____It was a bright afternoon, and the heat seemed intense enough to burn the   
city streets. But the sun didn't make for the heat. It was the fires that   
made things warm. Fire and smoke...  
_____There were fires burning on this street, a legacy of violence. Some   
burning cars and burning shops at the sides, smoke wafted up to the blue sky   
above the urban street. A person would notice that, if such a person were   
able to ignore the occasional triple cr-cr-crack of gunfire and the shouting.   
_____Yes indeed, this downtown neighborhood seemed like a lost cause. Over   
half of the beautiful storefronts and facades on this block were smashed in.   
And all of the shopkeepers were gone. Yet there were no looters here to   
steal--because anyone left with two legs had fled, not wanting to be killed.   
As for those who did not escape, their torn bodies lie on the streets.   
____Yes, there were bodies...not immediately noticable as there was so much   
debris here, anyway. The p-type cyborgs did a pretty good job of wiping out   
human beings. Scaring and killing people was their primary function! Dead   
bodies and scattered waste everywhere....  
_____Cr-cr-crack, CR-CR-CRACK, came the gunshots A wooman's shout echoed from   
one street over. "Charlie Team, move in! Push those two back a few meters!"   
A new spate of automatic gunfire echoed through the nearby streets. Not that   
the dead bodies on this street cared, but Metro Cops still kept fighting over   
there. A person could really hear it!   
_____Cr-cr-crack! "Damn it! Concentrate your fire!" And the sounds of guns  
continued. All sorts of sound and fury over there.   
_____Well, at least the Metro Cops could fight--and KILL--the metal-bodied   
freaks. On this street, a few of the things lie broken. Among the bodies on   
this downtown block, there were several metal corpses. These silvery bodies   
were riddled and dented, shot up by ferro-ceramic rounds. They lie among the   
dead they helped kill.  
...  
_____Cr-cr-crack! More gunfire... A lot of commotion was happening over on   
Brighton Street, where three teams of Metro Cops were taking on two cyborgs.  
Not just two standard cyborgs, these things were the size of small construction  
vehicles--with the bulk and strength to match! Compared to the size of their  
massive bodies, their rubber-faced heads seemed small. The rubber faces snarled  
as Metro Cops continued to fire from behind abandoned cars.  
_____"I SAID, concentrate your fire!" shouted Police Corporal Kim, her helmet   
visor tilted up. Yes, she was definitely here to fight and command--with   
kevlar body armor on and a submachine gun in her gloved hands. Once just   
plain "Officer Kim," the young blonde woman was field-promoted to her current   
rank amidst the battles--after her partner was beheaded by one of those freaks,   
after she continued her duty despite later injuries and trauma. She would   
fight on....  
_____TWHUNK! There was an explosion of safety glass as one of the two huge   
cyborg beasts SLAMMED one of its massive metal fists into a car roof--the car   
that four Metro Cops had ducked behind. One of them went down, clutching his   
bleeding face when the little shards of the flying safety glass hit him in the   
cheeks and eyelids. Though such glass was designed to break into non-injuring   
pieces when broken, it was flying very fast. So fast that it acted like   
shrapnel. Too bad that Metro Cop neglected to have his helmet visor down.   
_____Another officer grabbed him by the shoulders and began dragging him away.  
That left two other officers to fire on the huge metal beast that smashed the  
car. The thing pulled back its gigantic fist, ready to do a repeat performance  
of that same attack.   
_____"Bravo Team, move to assist Charlie Team!" shouted Kim. Today, Kim could   
have stayed back at the 2nd Precinct headquarters.... She could have been at   
a dispatcher's desk as this attack on downtown happened. But, she was among   
the very first wave of Metro Cops to hit the scene.  
_____No, Police Corporal Kim did not want to do desk duty now. She had   
experience with fighting cyborgs. And her experience was NEEDED out here. As   
she watched her second team of fellow Metro Cops run up behind another car,   
shooting at the two huge cyborgs in the street, she silently wished again.   
Wished for the cyborg-girl that these polices relied on to help.   
_____As six Metro Cops kept one of the oversized cyborgs busy with gunfire, Kim   
hoped for the cyborg-girl's return. Hell, one Gally was worth a hundred Metro   
Cops! It would be great if the cyborg-girl were to drop out of the sky somehow,   
right on top of one of those two hulking metal beasts. The metal-bodied girl   
would have dashed circles around the huge things and cut their armor to pieces   
with those alloyed fists of hers. Then, she'd go for the cyborgs' heads.   
_____Most certainly, she'd beat the jumbo-sized cyborgs quickly! Oh, Gally   
appearing RIGHT NOW would be a God-send. She would appear to knock those big   
metal bastards' heads off! Knocking...off...? Wait a minute!   
_____Enlightenment seemed to smack Kim in the head. How STUPID of her! All   
of this time, without her specifying, the Metro Cops under her command were   
just firing wherever they could--targeting the easier parts of the big cyborgs.   
They thoughts the cyborgs' heads were too small to aim for, so they kept on  
firing on the abdominal areas. This chipped away the metal monsters' armor,   
but there was still work to do.  
_____With one of the monstrous metal beasts making noise and threats, the other   
huge thing was standing still. Its rubber face smiling. It seemed amused as   
its fellow metal beast tried to intimidated Metro Cops with growls and stomps.   
Kim was over here alone, looking. There was a rare chance here. She had a   
clear shot at the enemy.   
_____Popping a fresh clip of ammo into her submachine gun, Kim laid herself   
flat atop the hood of this car. Her armor felt a bit bulky, but that was good:  
the bulkiness would help keep her more still--so she could aim better. Her   
padded elbows on the hood, she took aim...held her breath...sque-e-zed the   
trigger....   
_____CR-CR-CRACK! The shots hit! Stunned at her success, Kim first didn't   
move. Her carefully aimed, oh-so-lucky shots had taken the oversized metal   
freak right in the head. Over there, the metal beast GROW-W-WLED, began to   
stomp and stagger around as darkened blood dripped from its shot-up metal   
skull. That thing's brain was dying.  
______The cyborg designers still built the things' brains into the heads!   
Maybe for design reasons, the brain was still kept in the skull. Atop the   
body, it made for a small--but critical--target.  
_____There was a solid metallic CRASH of metal when that jumbo-sized cyborg   
toppled to the street. Its armored back and abdomen had been chipped and   
damaged, but it was the head-shot that stopped the giant. It was a very, very   
lucky, lucky, shot!  
_____But there was still one more. That large cyborg turned to see that its   
fellow metal beast had been taken down, then it let forth a R-R-ROAR! A roar   
that seemed to shake the street! It sounded like a mix between a diesel truck   
and an angry jungle beast.   
_____Then it began stomping in Kim's direction. The huge cyborg--like all the   
other prototype cyborgs--wasn't too intelligent as its brain had been mutilated   
and modified to enhance its killer instinct. But, the cyborg wasn't so stupid   
as to not understand where new gunshots came from--as with the gunshots from   
Kim's positoin.  
_____While some Metro Cops reloaded, the others Cops began firing at that   
remaining cyborg's back. Whereas their prevous barrages of gunfire were just   
to wear down the enemy, this barrage was a last-ditch effort to stop the   
monster before it killed Kim. And they didn't care if they risked weapons   
overheat or backfire. As the police corporal here ducked behind the car, the   
thing continued to stomp in this direction. Gunfire continued as well.  
_____Kim did NOT want to be hit with stray ferro-ceramic bullets, so she stayed  
behind this car. Damn, these bullets are designed to damage metal bodies.   
Such bullets would easily drill straight through a flesh body; body armor would  
not work to stop the new ammunition.   
_____Anyway, ducking gave Kim a chance to check her own submachine gun, making   
as sure as possible wouldn't jam. All the while, she heard the massive footsteps   
stomp closer...closer...CLOSER. And the other Metro Cops kept firing.   
_____Cr-cr-cr-cr...! The other Metro Cops kept up their barage. Damn, Kim   
could actually HEAR their ferro-ceramic bullets chip away at the back of the   
big metal beast--chipping sounds heard during the intervals between bass-toned   
and ground-shaking footsteps.   
_____The quaking footsteps stopped. That big thing was here. With the sounds   
of guns firing and bullets still chipping away at its armored back, the   
fifteen-foot metal giant towered over the car--seeming to block out the sun.   
Kim looked up, her mouth opening in surprise as the thing began moving over   
her. She ran away from the car, then spun to open fire on the cyborg--adding  
her gunfire to the prevous gunfire against the oversized cyborg.   
_____Actally, the metal beast's forward movement was a falling movement. With  
a massive CRASH of collapsing metal and breaking glass, yet another street-parked  
car was destroyed. The metal beast had fallen atop the car Kim hid behind   
thirteen seconds before now.   
_____All of those recent shots to its back had chipped away at the thing's   
armor. Eventually, the armor was so damaged that some bullets had gone into   
the body. And enough internal damage was done to the thing--stopping it.   
_____Her submachine gun in her black-gloved hands, Kim saw the wreck. The   
giant still lay atop the ruined car. Sparks and smoke came from the thing's   
damaged back. And that was all the life it showed; it did not move. The fight   
was done.  
_____Seven other Metro Cops ran over to here--to be sure that they won this   
time. They aimed their submachine guns at the fallen thing, even poked its  
rubber-faced head. A normal sized head atop a massive metal body--a pin-head!   
_____Then Kim herself went over there, where the cyborg lay broken atop the   
smashed car. She looked at the sparking, smoking huge thing. "I have to be   
sure," she said. "Stand back, people..." The other Metro Cops backed off,   
then Kim began shooting the thing's head--the ferro-ceramic bullets putting  
more holes in the things head than holes in swiss cheese.   
_____When there were no more bullets comfing from the hole of her now-smoking   
submachine gun, she lowered the weapon. Dark blood oozed from the thing's   
ruined head; it was clearly dead. The fight here was over.   
_____With the adrenaline rush over, Kim felt her entire body ache--muscle strain,  
along with bruises. There was just too much fighting done today. Too many   
Metro Cops died. Too many died yesterday. And, too many died the day before   
that. Too many died the day before THAT, as well. Too many dead this week,   
and last week. Probably more next week, if this kept up.  
_____She said, "I wish... I really, really wish...." Her voice trailed off.   
Looking at other Metro Cops here, she added, "We could truly use some hope   
right now." Soon as Kim said that, her walkie-talkie beeped. It was an   
incoming transmission from headquarters.  
_____She communicated with the 3rd Precinct headquarters--told them that her  
unit won the battle, defeated the p-type cyborgs. This latest attack--the one   
Kim's unit had just stopped--was just one battle. There was another battle   
going on in another part of downtown: the 4th Precinct. Damn, the p-type   
cyborgs were doing double-duty today. Other Metro Cops shared Kim's wish in   
mind, too.   
...  
_____Their collective desire was granted. Gally came back. And she came back   
in the speed of a blink, fully conscious. The cyborgg-girl was not in   
optimal condition.  
____The first thing Gally felt was a slamming headache. It was the sort of   
headache that could stopped a person--and drive him or her into unconsciousness.   
She blinked, eyesight blurry, holding her head in her hands... Swaying on her   
booted feet, she finally collapsed to a kneeling position. Her head was so   
full of splitting pain that she wanted to SCREAM!  
_____Blinking and breathing heavily, she tried to concentrate. Her vision  
cleared a bit. Now Gally saw that she was "herself" again--a physique of   
metal, wearing a sleeveless bodysuit that fit her body's shape. Calf-length   
boots to complete her outfit.   
_____Her transition-induced headache was going away. And through the slowly   
fading haze of pain, she looked down at the concrete of the sidewalk. A ruined  
sidewalk. There was broken brick and glass here...scattered debris. Along with   
dried blood.  
_____The shattered glass was from a nearby broken storefront window. The blood   
was from someone killed earlier. Gally forced herself to stand up. She was   
back in the nameless city, somewhere in the downtown area. The last thing she   
remembered was being in sleeping clothes, in Delsea. This time, her transition   
to this place was instant--so much so that it gave her that headache she just   
had. "R-R-RUN, GIRL!"   
_____Surprised, she looked around for the source of the stuttered shout... It   
came from the broken storefront window--a familiar voice coming from an   
unfamiliar place. She saw an unbroken television in a storefront display   
case, a television facing this city sidewalk: Max Headroom, the computer-  
generated man.   
_____"GET-GET-GET OUT OF HERE!" stutter-spoke the man in the television.   
"They're still around a-and AROUND!"   
_____Just now, the last of her headache was going away, but Gally was still   
slightly confused. She addressed the man in the television. "Mr. Headroom,   
what do you mean? Tell me, WHO remains here?"   
_____"WH-WHO? Buz-z-z, WRONG question! Y-y-you mean to ask WHAT remains here!"   
shouted the computerized man in the television. "Those THINGS are still here!  
Your e-evil cousins, p-type cyborgs! Waiting-waiting for stragglers! They   
al-al-already killed the cops that came here! So...RUN for your L-L-LIFE!   
AIE-E-E!"  
_____Indeed, all around was a scene of urban destruction. Along with scattered  
and mutilated bodies of well-dressed citizens, there were also a few torn bodies  
of Metro Cops. They lie on the sidewalks and in the streets, among smashed  
cars and broken storefront windows. Then Gally heard a metal-footed "thunk"   
land right behind her. Something had dropped down from a nearby shop roof.  
_____She whipped herself around, just as a metal fist SLAMMED against her.   
The blow struck her high in her metal chest, just beneath her neck--making her   
gasp.   
_____A new headache gripped her head. And there was pain in her body. Something  
inside her must have been damaged. Gasping for air, the cyborg-girl then   
realized that one or a few of her artificial organs must have been knocked out   
of calibration by that blow--it was, very likely, damage to her blood-pump.   
_____She was now facing one of the many skeletal p-type cyborgs that had staged  
terrorist attacks here in the city, its rubber face leering at her from atop  
a body of metal. The thing wanted to kill her.  
_____Ka-thunk--metal feet hitting the street. Another p-type cyborg jumped   
down from the roof of the city shop, turning to face Gally. The thing's   
rubber lips stretched as it leered at Gally. Then two more hopped down from   
that store-roof, joining the others. A four-to-one fiht: This was going to   
be quite a rumble.  
_____Gally felt a building lump of hotness within her chest... Her malfunctioniing  
and miscaliberated blood pump must be working hard to keep her conscious--  
overheating as it worked incorrectly. Auto-repar systems would correct the   
problem--if she let herself fall into unconsciousness. But, sleeping now   
would mean death.  
_____The skeletal p-type cyborgs grinned down at her, wondering which part of   
this little cyborg-girl they were going to try and take apart first. They   
truly were murdering machines, mutilated human brains with no real consciousness--  
simple brutality. Not even with enough intelligence left to use weapons to  
do their killing. Their claw-hands bloody from previous slaughter, they wanted   
to cause more pain! One of them raised its gleaming left metal arm, and so the   
fight began.  
...  
_____Gally half-ducked and blocked at the same time. The blow CLINKED off of  
her titanium forearm, sparks spraying from friction. She then countered with   
a side-kick, knocking one cyborg away.  
_____But that still left three more here. KLINK! One of them struck her on  
the shoulder, making her stagger. Another one lunged as her balance was   
compromised--metal claw-hands reaching out, gripping Gally by her neck.  
____KLINK, KLINK, KLINK, KLINK... The other two began hitting her. Blows   
coming from everywhere! Hits to her abdomen, hits to her back. This, while   
metal claw-fingers tried to crushed the delicate machinery of her throat. And   
the hits...kept...coming...   
_____She brought up her own solid hands, gripping the claws that held her.   
With a hard YANK, she brought down the p-type cyborg--a metal creature almost   
twice her height. Then she did a reverse somersault, her right leg kicking up   
at the same time--knocking off that freaky cyborg's head.  
_____Landing from the somersault-kick, she leapt again. This time, she went  
forward--solid right fist lashing out at the same time. The cyborg she   
attacked took the blow in its metal abdomen, small cyber-parts and thin metal   
armor scattering everywhere! Dark liquid and sparks gushing from its shattered   
abdomen, that one fell over, twitching. Meanwhile, the beheaded p-type cyborg   
fell over.  
_____Breathing heavily through her slightly damaged throat, Gally now turned   
to look at the last of the four p-type cyborgs--standing six meters away. It   
was the one she first kicked away. She looked into its camera-lens eyes, set   
in its rubber face. There was no fear in those camera-eyes... Just nothing.   
And then it smiled as so many others of its kind did--a smile that was not even  
human.  
_____Feeling that rising hotness inside her chest, Gally RAN at the remaining   
enemy as one thought ran in her mind. In a word, KILL. The metal skeleton-  
thing made some kind of futile gesture, probably tried to swipe at the cyborg-  
girl.   
_____But Gally was airborne--nothing could stop her, flying at the metal   
monster. Then, something spectacular happened--a spectacle of exploding   
darkened blood and metal. It was hard to tell exactly WHAT she did, but the   
effect was amazing. She had flashed for a split second as she came at the   
skeletal cyborg, a white-hot flash of power. And the p-type cyborg EXPLODED--  
skinny metal arms and legs flying in all directions, little metal pieces flying   
outward like shrapnel.   
...  
_____Gally skidded to a stop, her boots skidding on the asphalt. Stood there,  
breathing more heavily than before. She looked around for more p-type cyborgs.  
There were cracks and dents in her back and on the left side of her abdominal   
armor, from when all four of those cyborgs beat on her during the battle. And   
she heard as well as felt slight crackling sound coming from within her body...   
A little thread of smoke puffed steadily from one of the cracks in her back.   
Now her legs seemed not to be working right.   
_____By now, the hot-spot in her chest was BURNINGLY hot! Breathing rapidly was   
what kept her blood-pump from heat-overload right now... But that wasn't the   
worst of it. The overload was barely being contained by her auto-repair   
systems--the small and self-regenerating supply of nanobots within her.   
_____Over by the side of this city street, the television had turned on again.  
Max Headroom was back, his voice coming from the little speaker. "G-G-GALLY,   
you're in b-b-ad shape! CAN'T YOU FIND A TOO-TOO-TOOLKIT OR SOMETHING WHILE  
H-H-HELP GETS HERE?"   
_____Her legs weak and torso heating, the cyborg-girl weakly shook her head.   
All of this damage... But the pain was not just physical; it was also   
spiritual. She had returned to the city too late to help these Metro Cops. By   
God, there must be over eight of them dead around here. Probably more.  
_____"TALK to m-m-me, Gally..." said Max Headroom from in that television over   
there, almost scolding. "You're pretty quiet now. I don't-don't want you DYING   
on me now! You j-just got back, just for justice! Sure, there are a few   
c-c-corpses around... Okay, make that MORE than a few. B-b-but, don't let   
THAT let you down. Besides, Edison is on his way. The c-c-cops are sort of   
busy at-at the moment, so I couldn't get-get them."  
_____Despite Max Headroom's bolstering talk, Gally was still feeling quite down.   
Innocent civilians were dead, lying around. The Metro Cops here were dead.   
Her body was extensively damaged... And she was unsure if she--her brain--was   
going to live.   
_____She would try to find something, try to get to somewhere. Her insides  
feeling heated, legs weak, Gally tried walking away from this carnage. Eyes   
down, she stepped around the occasional strewn body--some bodies of flesh,   
some of them the remains of metal-type cyborgs. Then she tripped over one   
black-padded body, one of a strong-jawed Metro Cop.   
_____It took effort to get up. Her vision hazed with pain and damage, Gally   
brought herself to her knees. She saw that she had tripped over the bloodied   
corpse of a fallen Metro Cop. The dead eyes stared up at the blue sky overhead,  
mouth slack and drawing flies... But she knew those eyes. She knew the face.   
She knew now that Officer Murphy was dead.  
_____On her knees, she continued to look into the dead eyes of the officer.   
He died in fending off a wave of p-type cyborgs. His empty, dented submachine   
gun was still clutched in his right hand. The dents were from when he had tried   
to attack p-type cyborgs by using the empty weapon like a club--to give some   
surviving civilians time to escape.   
_____Whenever Chief Thunderhorse had Gally go on patrol, she was partnered with   
this Metro Cop--this man. Now he--her Metro Cop partner--was dead. If all   
the pain she felt before had hurt, then this was the final blow to her soul.   
This all pained too much....   
_____She failed. Giving a gasping sob, the cyborg-girl fell onto her side.   
This was all too much. All the pain and damage, all of the hurt and misery.   
Everything had gone wrong here, everything going down. The hurting inside of   
her body began to fill her brain, and she let it. She let the damage and pain   
close over her as she closed her eyes. All the while, she heard Max Headroom's   
distant voice trying to cheer her on... So...far...away...  
...  
_____A reddish-orange Network 23 news van screeched to stop at the intersection--  
a block from a scene of chaos in the downtown area. Well, that would be   
actually one of several scenes of chaos today; the cyborg-terrorist attacks   
happened in more than one place. And, plenty of people were killed. Knowing   
this, the two tele-journalists in the van deeply knew what sort of danger they   
were getting into.   
_____Because, knowing things was part of their job. The network van stopped,   
and its side door slid open. Out hopped two tele-journalists with video-  
cameras. One was a long-haired, thin woman in her early twenties--loose-fitting   
pants and a tight long-sleeved shirt, a multi-pocket vest worn over the shirt.  
Brown boots made her small feet seem large.  
_____Though a thin woman, experience and skill allowed her to port her video   
camera with almost as much ease as the seasoned tele-journalist she was with:   
Edison Carter.   
_____Edison had on loose clothes: a polo shirt and slacks, a trenchcoat worn   
over the clothes. Thick soled work-shoes on his feet, he looked ready for   
adventure. Because, covering these latest p-type cyborg attacks was adventure.  
_____Looking down at the female tele-jornalist, he asked, "You ready for this,   
Xu?" Then he looking around, checking for potential trouble. If there was  
any trouble, they could just hop in the van and be gone. "I mean, anything   
could happen out here."  
_____The thin female tele-journalist, Xu, gave Edison a look. Holding her   
camera with her right hand, she opened up one of her vest pockets--taking out   
a folded hat with a stylized dragon on its front. She shook it once, put it   
atop her dark-haired head. "I'm now wearing my lucky hat! I'm ready for   
anything!"  
____"Let's hope that's GOOD luck," said Edison while quickly checking his own   
camera. While Xu checked hers, Edison turned around to slide the van door shut.   
"Okay, Janx! We're good!" he said to the driver. "You know when to pick us   
up." Then he stepped back as the network van sped away. To Xu, he said,   
"Let's move."  
_____Putting video cameras atop right shoulders, the two tele-journalists began   
1moving toward the nearest scene of chaos. Gyroscopic and mercury-switch   
mechanisms within the cameras gave an almost steady view regardless of how   
much the two jounced as they moved at a quick jogging pace along this   
beautiful downtown city street...heading for a ruined street.   
_____As they ran, Edison thought he knew what to expect. Back at Network 23   
headquarters, he saw the net-cam shots of the scene--courtesy of none other than   
Max Headroom. And the computer-generated man had screamed about Gally being   
in trouble! G-g-get Gally-girl, said Max after showing the scene. Bodies   
all around, there was carnage there.   
_____And now the two tele-journalists came to the actual scene itself, on this   
street. Xu stopped, gripping her video camera. She looked around--slowly.   
"Oh my...goodness... Edison? This is... Ach!"   
_____She would not throw up. Using her free hand, Xu opened another one of   
her vest pockets and took a gag reflex-suppression pill--to keep her from   
vomiting. Then she brought her video camera up to her right shoulder,   
getting the scene by slow-pans left and right.   
_____Edison brought his own camera up to bear, made sure that the communcations  
link was on. He then said, "Control, Xu and I are both on-scene, alive. But   
it seems like no one else is." A breeze blew along the street... "Max said   
that Gally was here, so I guess I'll have to find her."  
_____A familiar voice came through the camera speaker, but it wasn't Theora:  
Edison's usual controller. It was the voice of Murry: a middle-aged manager   
back at headquarters. Theora had gone missing in one of the earlier attacks.   
She was still missing. And though Edison was among the first on the scene   
where she was last seen, after the p-type cyborgs, no one found her body.   
____Murry's voice came through calmly. "Okay, Edison. But don't forget that   
you're a reporter too, not a rescuer. Though if you see Theora there, try to   
bring her back after recording some good disaster footage..." Murry was   
Theora's manager, and he wanted her back on the job. "And don't forget,   
either you or Xu have too go on the air in twenty minutes--rescue or no rescue."  
_____"Edison," said Xu, "Let's start moving up the street." Something in that  
anti-vomit medicine of hers must have also suppressed her fear--if only   
temporarily. "I'll cover the right side, you cover the left side. We'll find   
Gally here... It's a Max Headroom guarantee!"  
_____Edison added, "And if either of us is cut to death by killer cyborgs, the   
other can get it all on video. Good ratings all around..." Xu's slender   
shoulders   
slumped, her mouth gaping. "Okay, forget I said that." Speaking into the   
camera speaker, "Sorry, Murry."  
_____Before Murry could say anything, Edison walked towards the left side of   
the street--which was as wrecked-looking as the right side. Or, was it worse?  
Video camera pointed down, he swept the view left and right, looking at the   
various debris and dead bodies around here. Most of the bodies were of men   
in business clothes, bloodied and torn--with the occasional female corpse for  
variety. There were some Metro Cops here, too... The kevlar padding and   
helmets they wore didn't seem to be too much protection the claws of the   
cyborgs that did them in. Somehow, eyeing this through the view of his   
camera made it a bit more tolerable.  
_____Then Max Headroom appeared in the camera's view! "H-H-HI, GUY!" came his   
loud and cheery voice through the video camera speaker, stammering the greeting.   
"Glad you-you could ma-ma-MAKE it here!"   
_____Edison nearly dropped his video camera. "For crying out loud! Max, we're  
here. Now, where's Gally? Around here? You could save Xu and I the trouble  
of digging through dead bodies and broken stuff."  
_____"Like dig-dig-DIGGING for buried TREASURE!" quipped Max from inside  
the camera. "Sounds like fun! If I had hands, I'd give you one. A h-h-hand,   
that is." Then his voice took on a pirate's timbre. "Arr, mateys... We'll  
find me T-T-TREASURE. Then we'll CONQUER the S-S-SEVEN SEAS! Arr, ARRH!"  
_____"Max! People are DEAD here!" shouted Edison. "And, any second, maybe   
those metal monsters will be back to make ME and Xu dead. Now where EXACTLY  
did you see Gally last?"  
_____"Sh-sheesh, so impatient! I'll tell you..." came Max's voice through   
the camera speaker. "G-G-GOSH, and letting you just look around would have   
been S-S-SO much more fun! Now I'll just tell you what y-you're looking for.   
_____"What's left of Gally sh-should be over by-by 'Patty's Perfume Parlor.'  
Which, by the way, is next to a store called Vinny's Video Boutique. But   
Vinny's dead! He was k-k-killed by those p-type cyborgs. What's the store   
going to-to be named now, HUH? How d-d-does 'DEAD Vinny's Video Boutique'   
sound?"  
_____A shout cut through the air. "EDISON!" It was Xu's voice, sounding   
especially worried. And it seemed that the medication she took must not have  
been strong enough to suppress the fear she had now. Something was up!  
_____"You're a big help, Max," said Edison, jogging over to where Xu stood   
further along the street. "Now go." Nigttime kneeling over at the right-side   
sidewalk, video camera off of her right shoulder, looking at something.  
_____Running, the tall tele-journalist was soon by Xu's side. Finding a clear  
patch of sidewalk, without blood on it, he knelt as well. "Oh, no... No..."   
He felt worse than he sounded.  
_____He didn't know cyborgs, but he knew a broken body or a broken machine   
when he saw one. Now, he saw something he recognized as broken. Gally was   
broken, lying on her side. He tried not to look at her petite, damaged body   
that looked so much like a girl-woman's body in armor--dents and cracks in her   
midsection and back. At least the cyborg freaks didn't ruin her pretty face.   
He brushed aside some lengths of her dark hair. Eyes closed, the cyborg-girl's   
face had a look of silent serenity. The "flesh" was cold.  
_____Then Edison heard Xu give a loud sniff. He saw a shiny wet tear rush   
down her face. "I'm sorry..." she said. "I'm trying to be professional. But   
she reminds me of my--" A loud shout rang out.  
_____"Hey-hey! I-I'M BA-A-CK!" came Max's voice from Edison's camera. "I was   
just now a BIG help! Why-why, you ask? Because I just called Bryce--boy genius   
and friend to cyber-fans!"   
_____"You should have called the Metro Cops again," said Edison. "Should have  
told them that Gally's here... And that she's dead." More annoyed, he said,   
"You know what? You could be even MORE helpful by GOING AWAY FOR NOW!"   
_____"Sure thing..." came Max's tinny response through the video camera speaker.   
"I'll just let-let-let you talk to the smart boy. Sure, talk to him, Bryce.   
He won't listen-listen to his own electronic doppleganger."   
_____"Hey, Edison. It's me." The voice coming through the camera was now the   
voice of teenage Bryce, Network 23's head R&D researcher. "Did you just tell   
Max that Gally is DEAD?"  
_____"Well..." said Edison. He saw that Xu had put down her video camera. She   
had just taken out a stethoscope fom one of her many vest pockets, then set  
the earpieces in her ears--about to put the other end to Gally's chest. "She  
looks that way."  
_____Bryce's voice took on a businesslike tone. Said, "Let's not jump to   
conclusions, Edison. The thing to keep in mind is that Gally is a cyborg:   
She's never legally 'alive' to begin with, as her original body is probably dead   
and gone somewhere. However, TECHNICALLY, we may be able to save her. Now   
give me a view of Gally."   
_____Giving a mental shrug, Edison complied--being sure that the camera lens  
focused on Xu as she bent over Gally, stethoscope place high on the cyborg-  
girl's sternum-area. Xu's hat and lengths of curtaining hair shielded her   
facial expression.  
_____She then looked up, taking the stethoscope ear-pieces out of her ears.   
"I heard something," she said to Edison and the camera. "It's a sort of low  
humming sound. Machine sounds inside... Her insides don't sound HUMAN at   
all."  
_____"That's EXACTLY what I'm referring to!" came Bryce's enthusiastic reply.  
"Gally could rightly be called a machine, as it seems that only her brain is  
human. Though, given video-recorded data on her fighting capabilities, I   
strongly suspect that her brain must be cybernetically augmented to some extent.  
That should include at least SOME protection against brain damage in the event  
that her body is damaged. We should be able to REPAIR her, Edison! But...  
There could be one variable catch."  
_____Edison looked down at the fallen cyborg-girl on the pavement. The   
pavement, which was strewn with bodies of the dead--including a nearby Metro   
Cop's body without a helmet. "What's the catch, Bryce?" said Edison into the   
camera speaker. "Can we or can't we save Gally? Tell me now. I don't want   
to have to worry about her."  
_____Xu interrupted. Saying, "I think you SHOULD worry, Edison. I think that   
with the Metro Cops fighting a stalemate battle with these cyborg-monsters,   
Gally should be able to tip victory in our favor. I'm a reporter, too. I pay   
attention to things."  
_____The decision was obvious. "Xu, is your camera still on?" asked Edison.   
"I want to talk to Murry." He saw Xu put her stethoscope in one of those vest   
pockets of hers before picking up the video camera.   
_____Murry's voice came through Xu's speaker. "I heard it all, Edison. What's  
the deal? You have about nine minutes before you go live. As in, ON THE AIR!   
Broadcasting to all of the citizens. So, make it quick." Even heard through  
the camera's speaker, Murry's He was beginning to sound impatient.  
_____"Murry, I need a spare van to get over here. Gally's small, but I don't  
think anyone can carry her--or even lift her up. If we want to save her..."  
_____"A RESCUE? Edison, what about THE STORY?" came Murry's impatient voice   
through the speaker. "Let me remind you that you are a paid reporter for this  
NETWORK! If you, Edison Carter, don't cover the story, then our ratings won't  
be optimal. Do your job, and leave rescues to the Metro Cops."   
_____"Murry, if you were listening, then you would have heard what Xu said,"  
answered Edison, looking into Xu's video camera. "If we don't at least TRY   
and rescue Gally, then there won't be ANY ratings...or any Networks...ever   
again. Because, the city will go straight to Hell. Anyway, ALL the networks  
are covering this."  
_____"Bad word choice, Edison," came Murry's answer through Xu's camera. "Bad,  
because it's rude to me--your boss. But... Sure, I'll play along. I'll send   
a spare van by to pick you two up. Just be sure to get EXCLUSIVE coverage of   
this so-called 'rescue' of yours."  
_____Nodding, Edison answered, "You're the boss, Murry! And make sure the   
driver is a very strong person. I mean, able to pick up metal." That, because  
broken cyborg-girls are heavy. Even short ones.  
...  
_____About nine minutes later, a Network van ambled along this street. Though   
the driver tried to avoid riding over most of the bodies, he ran over a corpse   
or two... And he would regret doing so for a long, long time. The driver, a   
strong-looking man, stepped out of the van...and promptly threw up.  
_____After he recovered (with a little help from something out of Xu's vest   
pockets), the driver and Edison both strained muscles in lifting Gally up into   
the van's back. Wiping his brow, Edison then hopped into the van. Xu got in as   
well, closing the long door. The driver ran over three more bodies in getting   
off this street--away from the city block.   
...  
_____Somewhere else in the city, a large wall-screen rolled down from the   
ceiling. It was blank at first... Then it came to florescent life, showing a   
single and direct image--a corporate logo. It was the logo of Network 66, red   
letters on a black background. And then there was a quick clash of music--the   
new Network 66 fanfare.   
_____Several seconds passed, and the fanfare faded out. Then, the background  
behind the logo brightened. A person could now see that the logo was actually   
mounted on a marble wall. But it was hard to guess where; the camera was just   
showing on the logo on a blackbooard.  
_____The camera zoomed back--showing a view of a long dark table in a   
florescent-lit room. There was just one man seated at that long table, seated   
at the far end. He looked strong--broad shoulders and chest covered by jacket   
and buttoned shirt. He had slicked-back hair and icy-looking blue eyes. Now,   
he set his glove-covered hands atop the table, interlaced his fingers, and put   
on a hint of a smile.  
____"Good afternoon...or whatever time it may be when you get around to seeing  
this oh-so-important announcement," he began. "I am Mr. Grossberg, CEO and   
sole proprietor of Network 66. That explains why I sit alone at this table:   
because no one else rules this corporation now. No one but myself. That makes  
me the most economically powerful man in the city.   
_____"Oh, but economics is not everything...as you--the citizens--have   
discovered over the past few weeks. During that time, you have fallen victim to   
random spates of extreme ULTRAVIOLENCE. The likes of which have never been   
seen before! Not even during the acts of 'suppression' the Metro Cops were once   
infamous for in Fringes riots of decades ago.   
_____"Ultraviolence? What am I talking about? For those too thick-headed to  
understand, I am talking about terrorism--plain and simple. Prototype CYBORG  
terrorism. During these attacks, cyborgs would leap out, seemingly out of   
NOWHERE, and have killed!" He raised his left hand. "Now, here's the   
punchline, people: The cyborgs are under the control of this very corporation,   
MY network. They are tools of my power over you."  
_____At this point, Mr. Grossberg raised his left hand, put two fingers together.   
With a crisp SNAP of those gloved fingertip-type cyborgs walked into the   
camera's view.  
_____The metal monsters walked in a hunched over sort of way, flanking the   
business-suited man. Those rubber-faced metal monsters, they were always   
seen killing and rampaging. But now, they stood like docile animals--their   
metal claw-hands at their sides... Not even looking at the CEO.  
_____Mr. Grossberg raised his glove-covered hands, gesturing to the p-type   
cyborgs that obeyed him--as did all of them. "Indeed, THESE are my tools.   
Tools, so strong that not even the Metro Cops can stop them. The Metro Cops   
are, after all, but the token remnants of a City Council that does nothing but   
barely and selectively enforce existing laws...for the good of corporations   
like my own! Yes, the City Council merely uses the Metro Cops to keep the   
Fringers in their place--while ordering them to look the other way while we  
businessmen do as we please!   
_____"That only left those damned reporters to keep an eye on us! Meddling   
bastards. If it were not for the tele-journalists of other networks publicizing  
some of our activities, we could do more! A lot more! But, the City Council   
was compliant enough. To that I must say, 'Thank you!' Thank you...for giving   
me the time I needed to gather and build my resources! To build up my legion   
of p-type cyborgs.  
_____"Ahem! Now, for the moment you have been waiting for: the main point  
of this public announcement. The reason why I speak to you now.  
_____"At this time, I now demand that the Metro Cops surrender--and that the   
city's government cede all political power to me. Because I, Grossberg, shall   
become SOVEREIGN over the city--by BLOOD and STEEL. As cliche as this sounds,   
I'll say it anyway. Surrender...or die." He shook his head. "Damn, that   
sounded corny, but that's where things stand now!"   
_____Looking up at the p-type cyborg standing left of his seat, Mr. Grossberg   
pointed to the one seated at his right. "Number 186, I want Number 185's head.  
Now."  
_____Soon as those words were said, the p-type cyborg on the left walked over  
behind the other. Next, the thing used its metal claw-hands to GRIP the   
head of its fellow cyborg. With a feirce metallic wrenching sound, the   
rubber-faced head came off the metal neck--darkened blood and sparks coming   
from the wiry neck-stump. The headless metal body stood there twitching for   
some seconds, then it fell backward--out of view.  
_____Number 186 handed the cyborg's head to Mr. Grossberg. The man frowned  
at it, tilted it slightly and angling it--as if inspecting its quality. Then,   
holding the dripping skull-thing aloft in his left hand, he said, "Alas, poor   
Yorick! Ha ha ha ha...! Ahem!" He placed the rubber-faced skull-head onto the   
table--face foward, so its dead camera eyes stared.  
_____With the cyborg head steadily dripping on the table, he said, "How is   
THAT for trite? Now, I expect the full surrender by 9 p.m, tonight. That   
should be more than enough time for the City Council to disband all of its   
worthless police precincts and for them to come over to the Network 66 building.   
Then, there must be a GRAND public ceremony--in which they will declare me   
the Sovereign over the city. Unless you want more citizens dead, don't let   
me down! Good evening, and do not leave me waiting!"   
_____As he stared into this camera, the scene faded...leaving the Network 66   
logo on the screen. The Network 66 fanfare blared once more. At the bottom   
of the screen, a message appeared in white text. One sentence: REMEMBER,   
21:00 IS THE DEADLINE! And someone paused the video.  
...  
_____On that screen, the message stayed. The nine members of the City Council,   
sitting at grand marble desks, all saw that announcement played for them on that   
big screen. They saw it before. Now they wondered why Police Chief   
Thunderhorse bothered to play it here and now. They did NOT have to be reminded   
of what threat faced them!   
_____There was all sorts of commotion in this grand chamber as the City Council   
members did what politicians do well: argue. Argument, without coming to a real   
consensus. The police chief stood there at the front of the Council Chamber,   
below the big screen while the arguing continued. Finger-point, oath-swearing,   
and noise-making went on until Mr. Thunderhorse used a remote to finally turn   
off the video screen.   
_____At the right side of the room, a well-dressed and big-bellied City Council   
member stood up and pointed at the police chief. "YOU! Why the HELL weren't   
you able to find out WHO did all of this...until it was TOO LATE? For somebody   
rumored to be over a hundred years old, you sure do lack the wisdom of your   
age!"  
_____Chief Thunderhorse smiled. "That's another reference from Shakespeare,   
isn't it? About me having grown old without having grown wise? Well, let me   
flex a bit of my wisdom and tell you why I could not trace the source of the   
terrorist attacks.   
_____"For one, consider the size of the city. I was unable to find the source   
of the attacks simply because the city is quite large--and there are not enough   
of my personnel to cover it all.   
_____"Another fact: Not all of the city is charted. The Fringes, which   
surrounds the city core-region, is uncharted territory. Anyone could hide   
anything out there, can DO anything--provided the person has enough paper money   
to keep mouths shut. Also, recall that the city is built upon layers of   
previous urban development. Not only are there sewers, but there are also   
subterranian ruins going half a mile deep--the legacy of this city's history.   
_____"And, above all: The primary reason why my officers have not been able   
to uncover Network 66 as the enemy? Why, Mr. Grossberg said it. According to   
various laws, Metro Cops are forbidden to encroach on corporate-owned property.  
This goes as Networks have their own private armies--security forces. YOU   
voted to pass those laws, Mr. Council-Member...because of quite sizable bribes!"  
_____That Council-Member at the right side of the room was stunned, stupified   
with red-faced anger. He stood while the police chief said those things--a   
man seeming ready to explode with anger. But, he could say nothing to counter.   
Everything Police Chief Thunderhorse said was true.  
_____Standing up from her marble desk in the middle, a thin elderly woman  
stood--her stylish clothes not quite hiding her thin frame. "Chief Thunderhorse,   
I hope you forgive Council-Member Rinchgrin over there... And please forgive   
me for having failed to convince others to stop taking Corporate bribes. But,   
regardless of wether or not you choose to forgive us, the trouble..." She  
was interrupted!  
_____"Shut it, you dried-up bitch!" shouted the still-standing portly Council-  
Member. "Everything was working fine up until a few weeks ago! The corporations,   
unrestricted, kept the economy humming while we just made sure that those dumb   
fucks in the Fringes didn't make too much trouble. We were doing fuckin'   
SWELL!"  
_____Other Council-Members clapped to show their support. Indeed, unrestricted  
corporate activity was what they believed in--because bribes and wealth   
brainwashed them into following such thinking. But they quickly quieted down  
when they remembered their current situation.  
_____Yet the emotional damage was done. The thin, elderly woman sat down.   
Despite much in the way of genetic treatments against most effects of aging,   
early years of drug abuse had caught up with her. She did not age as well as   
Chief Thunderhorse. Indeed, no one did.  
_____Now, Thunderhorse spoke up. Looking once into the eyes of the elderly   
Council-Member, he said, "I believe I know what you wanted to say...before you  
were interrupted. You wanted to say that, regardless of whether or not I chose   
to forgive you, the trouble STILL REMAINS. That is true. What is also true is  
that surrendering to Grossberg is not yet an acceptable answer."  
_____A Council-Member at the left side of the room stood up from his marble  
desk. He was dressed in a green suit, and his hair was somewhat long. Said,  
"Oh, and why the Hell DON'T we surrender? What, do you WANT more citizens to   
be fucking KILLED because of some damned last-stand act of Metro Cop bravado?"  
He banged on his marble desk. "Give me ONE DAMNED GOOD REASON why we SHOULDN'T   
SURRENDER! RIGHT NOW! Surrender, while there are still living citizens to  
partake of the deal."  
_____"Why NOT surrender? Because our hope has returned," answered the police   
chief. "GALLY has returned. You see, I was contacted by a helpful party--  
regarding her whereabouts. The cyborg-girl was found, but severely damaged.   
Her body is broken, yet--if repaired--she should be able to tip things in our   
favor."  
_____A fourth Council Member stood up--a bespectacled short man in blue suit.   
He asked, "What do you mean by that, Thunderhorse? A third party gave you   
reassurance? What good is that, really? Didn't you just say that the cyborg-   
girl is broken? And what good is one against many?"  
_____Chief Thunderhorse answered. Said, "Why, she's...ha, ha. She's our   
Battle Angel! A being worth many more in fighting. And she won't stand alone   
against Grossberg, because I will see to it that every surviving and able-  
bodied Metro Cop rallies around her when we give our answer to Network 66."  
_____The inquisitive blue-suited Council Member shook his head and stood again.   
"But, why do you assume? Stand against Mr. Grossberg? My knowledge of   
technologies is limited, but isn't it true that cyborgs are actually beyond   
generally available technology? As Network 66 alone has working cyborg   
technology, who will lift up our fallen 'angel'?"  
_____"I cannot tell you that," answered this police chief. "But, I will admit  
that there is no guarantee that Gally will live... Or, function again. In the  
meanwhile, I have preparations to make. It is now 15:00, three o'clock p.m.   
by the old count. We will all be busy--up until the deadline." He then walked  
away from the center of the Chamber, stopped at the door. "Just maybe, in the  
meanwhile, you all should say your good-byes--just in case I fail to save the  
city." 


	10. Stupidity

The Other Box: Chapter 10 (by Elliot Bowers)  
...  
Stupidity  
...  
______There are several elitist academies within the nameless city: top-level   
schools in which child geniuses are educated in the ways of technology as so   
they can be economically useful. Once upon a time, there was just one such   
school. But the growing corporate need for more technology prompted the need   
for more academies--more elitist schools. Corporations not only wanted, but  
NEEDED technology. So the corporations put cash into these schools to keep  
them running...  
_____Why? The thinking was simple. Excellent profits come from excellent  
technology, and excellent technology cannot exist without EXCELLENT schools.  
With that thinking in mind, the corporations of the city subsidize the   
academies--knowing that they will be rewarded with excellent tech-workers. It   
is philanthropy...with a purpose.  
_____One of these schools--the Howard Leeds Institute of Technology--was in   
the northern sector of the downtown core. There was just one building for the   
school, but it was enough. This was a cube-shaped structure that took up an  
entire city block--a building four stories high. There was not much room for   
many students, because most of the building floors was dedicated to cyber-  
labs of various sorts. This was THE place for future corporate researchers to   
learn computer and even robot hardware. Rumors spread that some students were   
even working on ways to build artificial people--androids and gynoids.  
...  
_____Though the rest of the city was rather subdued due to the latest   
troubles regarding the cyborg terrorist attacks, the Howard Leeds Institute of   
Technology was very busy. But the troubles were the exact reasons why the   
school was so busy now: They were working on the way to save the city from   
that insane fool who wanted to rule. Rule the city, like a tyrant out of   
ancient times.   
_____The students and instructors of the Howard Leeds Institute of Technology  
kept working late into the afternoon, knowing that the deadline was 21:00:   
9:00 p.m. on the old-time clock. Their goal: Repair the advanced cyborg-girl   
before the deadline. Because if they did not, then there would be little hope   
against Mr. Grossberg's legions of p-type cyborgs. He would conquer the city,   
and everyone would be doomed to serve a madman driven by a lust for power.  
_____At first, the people of this institute didn't think they could succeed.   
For goodness sake, they didn't even know that cyborgs were possible until   
they started appearing in the city! And they didn't think that advanced cyborgs  
like Gally could exist. Now they had to repair her, whose body was made from   
technological innovations that seemed to be decades into the future!  
____But Bryce convinced them that they could fix her. For the sake of the   
city--and the freedom to continue tech research--he convinced them. Personally,   
he said that nothing was impossible; it just took time.  
_____Time? TIME? It would have take fifty years AT LEAST to understand the   
simple--yet brilliant--technologies that went into making Gally. The people  
here didn't have fifty years; they didn't have a year. They did not even have  
a day! So those at this academy had to do some hurried analysis to understand   
the workings of the damaged cyborg-girl before they could begin to attempt   
repairs.   
...  
____And... Well, she was a mess! Her armored exterior was dented in the torso.  
Some segments of her abdominal armor had been taken out. There was impact   
damage to some of her artifical organs. Her blood pump had nearly been burned   
out. Plenty of her control circuitry needed replacement. The few software   
components there were inside her had to be connected to computers for recalibration.   
Odd, some of her parts seemed like they belonged in a motorcycle... Anyway,  
after analyzing Gally's damaged body, they found that they had some serious   
work to do.  
_____They divided the work. The lower levels of the academy did hardware work.   
They scanned Gally's various mobility systems, control systems, and energy   
distribution systems. The upper levels of the school--second floor and  
above--worked on more concise software for her. But... Damn, there was still  
so much that they had to fix.   
...  
_____A precious few hours later, they were finishing up. Well, the basic repair  
work wasn't so much work after all. But they had to use a lot of current   
technology to get the job done. For example, Gally's exoskeletal armor wasn't   
as strong as it was before; they had to use current alloys. And some   
electromechanical components used to replace the damaged ones were simpler   
than the ones Gally originally had. So now, they were tweaking the cyborg-girl.   
Everyone on every floor was doing cyber-work to help Gally.   
...  
_____With all the work being done on other floors and in other labs, there was   
just one basement cyber lab at the center of the work--a very teched-up sort of   
room. This cyber-lab was the size of a classroom, yet much of that space was  
occupied with machinery--controlled by computer workstations in the middle.   
Everything was connected together with electrical and fiber-optic cables   
strung along the floor and through the walls. But the teenagers and adults   
here did not trip over the cables. After all, they were geniuses.   
_____And maybe, the most ingenious genius here was the teenage R&D techie from   
Network 23--Bryce himself. Though dressed casually in jeans and tee shirt, he   
was all business. He sat at one of the computer workstations, watching a   
diagnostics program run. Hmm... Something needs modification.   
_____Leaning sideways, he spoke to someone elsewhere in here. "Julie, could   
you increase Gally's servomechanical redundancy by five percent? I'd actually  
like ten percent more, but do what you can."  
_____Julie was a thin, red-haired waif of a girl, dressed in jeans and blouse.  
Large eyeglasses over her crystal-blue eyes. She was next to a rectangular-  
shaped boxy machine--an automated repair machine. Inside it were electromechanical mechanical arms that   
were able to repair anything placed within it...except for human beings. Now,  
it had been used to repair the cyborg-girl. Maybe, in the far future, such   
a machine could be used to operate on human beings...  
_____An odd expression on her face, Julie tapped a few keys to try and   
increase Gally's servomechanical redundancy. Some whirring sounds came from  
within the automated repair machine as it scanned the cyborg patient within.  
Scanning... Unable to comply!  
_____"Can't do it, Bryce!" she said. "The servomechanical components inside   
Gallly are already modified for as much redundancy as possible! If we try to   
squeeze any more redundancy into that small amount of metal-enclosed space,   
we'll have to add extra backup components. Gally would need breast enlargement!"  
_____Another student, standing at this machine, leered at Julie. He was looking  
at her chest. "Heh heh... You could use some 'redundancy' and 'enhancement'   
yourself, Julie! I know this great guy at another academy who could do a..."   
SLAP! "Hey! I was KIDDING!"  
_____Bryce sighed... These child-geniuses were but a few years younger than   
himself, but they still seemed so much more immature. "OKAY, do what you can   
without compromising the exoskeletal integrity. We just fixed her exoskeletal  
armor, and I want her to be optimal for tonight's action. If she isn't optimal,   
then maybe we'll all end up swearing allegiance to 'Grossberg the Great.'"  
_____Just then, an academy instructor stepped into this cyber-lab--a curly-  
haired young woman in dress and lab coat. She walked between some machinery,   
walking over to Bryce. Her poise and lab coat indicated her rank and position   
at this academy. In fact, some of the students working in this room were her   
students.   
_____Hands in her labcoat pockets, she addressed Bryce. "I really think it   
is time to increase the artificial metabolism.... Wake up Gally's brain."  
_____"But...she's not optimal, Miss Briette," said Bryce, tapping a few keys   
on the computer. "It's bad enough that we couldn't get her exoskeletal armor   
back to one-hundred percent. There are still some weak points that can't be   
perfectly fixed. Now we're trying to make up for that defficiency by boosting   
the integrity of her servomechanical components. She's only up to seventy-five   
percent cardiovascular stamina, too..."   
_____Miss Briette raised her right hand, and Bryce went silent. "The police   
chief called," she said. She took her left hand out of her labcoat pocket,   
revealing a silvery wrist-watch on a slender wrist. "It is now 18:40, and he   
said that he was going to move with his plan at 19:00...with or WITHOUT her   
being ready."   
_____Bryce rolled his eyes, then swiveled his chair to face away from the   
computer workstation. "Well... I suppose we'll have to try. And if her upgraded   
circulatory system doesn't work as well as we HOPE it does, at least we can   
say we had to try--before we die."  
_____"Bryce..." went Ms. Briette, "our repairs will not fail. We have gone   
over Gally's artificial physiology at least nine times. We repaired and   
tested all of her systems--damaged and undamaged. We even know plenty about   
how her chemically enhanced brain works. We know so much about her brain   
that we were able to delete her latest traumatic memory--the death of that   
Metro Cop.   
_____"And finally, if Gally's brain dies during the wake-up, it won't be a   
permanent problem. We could just use your mind-dopple program to make an   
artificial brain... Like, you did for Edison Carter to make Max Headroom.   
Gally would be 'dead,' but not permanently. So begin the booting process   
already."   
_____That silenced Bryce. Ms. Briette had presented three very effective   
arguments. He could not counter any of them. "Okay, okay... I'm on it," he  
said, swiveling around in his seat to start the procedure.  
_____Miss Briette nodded and began walking away. She clapped her hands twice to  
get people's attention. "Listen up, everyone! Bryce is increasing the   
metabolism rate on our cyborg. Have the backup and support peripherals ready!"  
_____"Su-u-u-re...!" went Bryce, entering various computer commands. His fingers   
working on the keyboard, eyes on the computer monitor. He switched the computer  
over to the program needed to interact directly with the cyborg-girl--who was   
still inside the machine that Julie designed and operated.   
_____"Okay!" he said aloud. "I entered the wake-up protocols!" Muttering to   
himself, "Let's hope this works."  
...  
_____Slowly, quietly, Gally's mind began to work again. The last thing she   
remembered, some terrible events had come to pass. She had returned to this   
city, arriving in a ruined area, before she fought a group of those vicious   
p-type cyborgs. She fought them, and then... Then...   
_____Her mind was almost blank on what came to pass next. For some reason she  
could not remember, she went unconscious after the fight. It was probably due   
to excessive damage to her body or hits to her head. But still... She just   
could not remember.   
_____She was now hearing voices, slight murmurs. And she sat up! The startled  
students and adults here hopped back a bit, not sure of what to expect. They  
stared at her, and she knew that they were not dangerous.  
_____"Welcome back to our world, Gally," said someone familiar, stepping through  
the gathered group to stand in view. "Remember me? I'm Bryce... You know,   
from Network 23?" He indicated the people around him. "My friends and I, we   
repaired you... Well, we did what we could..."  
_____"Why so? Under what reason did you repair me?" asked the cyborg-girl,   
looking down at her own bare metal body. Because she did not have on any clothing,  
she was able to see all of herself. Her legs and hips were fine, but some   
segments of her abdominal armor had been replaced. Her chest armor was a   
different color--a different alloy... They must have repaired her body using   
this city'stechnology.  
_____But the people did what they could. And she was alive now. She could   
feel that she had most of her strength returned. "I thank you," she said   
aloud. "But, deeds are not done without expectations of rewards. I lack the   
big cash to repay you..."  
_____"I don't know about everybody else, but I know how you could repay ME!"   
went one boy. "How about a date, metal babe? We couldn't fuck, but you could   
probably give me a KILLER blow job!" The female students gasped, looked at   
him aghast.   
_____Unhindered, the lewd boy continued to speak. "And the b.j. would just   
be a down payment. We could work on giving you a synthetic vagina so you can   
finish off the debt! From there, I could find the synthetic-flesh body Miss   
Briette designed so we could..." SLAP! "OW-W-W! I WAS KIDDING, JULIE! Are   
you trying to break my jaw?"  
_____"Well... Ahem!" went Bryce, putting his hands in his jeans' pockets and   
deliberately taking on Miss Briette's straight-backed pose. "Please ignore   
Clyde. He's a bit on the unstable side. Anyway, you COULD repay us by   
helping the Metro Cops arrest Mr. Grossberg--so the city is saved. They were   
thinking about just BLOWNG UP his building, but that would lead to the   
destruction of too many other structures. So it's going to be a real city   
battle." His voice took on a more shrewd tone. "Oh, and by the way... We're   
ninety-six percent sure that the man named Dr. Nova works there. Clyde and I   
hacked the Network 66 employee registry and found his name. "   
_____"Yeah, hee hee!" went Clyde, the lewd boy. "And we fucked with the   
elevators and air circulation systems there, too! Shoved our cyber-dicks right   
into their soft ports!" SLAP-P-P! "Ow... OW-W-W! Ohf my Goff! I thinkf   
my jaw'f bwoken! Miff Briette, ma' Julie STO' SLAPPI' ME!"  
_____Shaking his head twice at Clyde's behavior--or misbehavior--Bryce spoke   
on. "If you want to help the Metro Cops, Gally, there are about three vehicles   
waiting to escort you. They're up and outside."   
_____Gally climbed up and out of the coffin-like automated repair machine...   
Then she looked once more at her bare metal physique. Not that she was too   
concerned about her own "nudity" (as her body was but metal), but walking   
into battle without clothing felt...inappropriate.   
_____Miss Briette must have recognized Gally's hesitation. "Bryce, get Gally's   
replacement clothes... An no snide comments, please."   
_____Bryce wondering why he was being treated like a common errand boy... But  
all of this this was for Gally. He went elsewhere in here and went over to a   
plastic-wrapped parcel set atop one of the bulky machines.   
_____Stepping between machines, feet going over electrical cables, he came   
back here. In his hands was a plastic-sealed bundle. "We weren't able to put  
your body EXACTLY as it was before, but at least our technology is good enough   
to refurbish your synthetic-leather clothes. And we did the same for your   
boots, because some parts were melted."  
_____"You are doing much for me," said Gally as Bryce gave her the package.   
She tore open the plastic wrapping and found her clothing: her sleeveless   
black bodysuit and boots, along with the stubby cred-rod that the police chief   
gave her. Everyone's eyes on her, Gally slid on the form-fitting one-piece   
garment. And she buckled her boots... The cred-rod went into one of her   
slit-pockets. They stared because they never saw a cyborg get dressed before.  
_____Re-clothed and repaired, she now felt almost fully herself. But now   
she had a task to complete. It was a bounty to claim... A claim on Dr. Nova's  
head. She walked over to Bryce, looked up into the teenager's bespectacled   
eyes. "Did you say, Metro Cop cars await outside?"   
_____Bryce looked around. "Sure. They're outside this building. They've been   
really nice by not barging in here and stare at us while we work, but they   
REALLY wanted to be here when you were ready."  
_____"So, time comes to do what is necessary," she said. "Again, thank you  
all." And the small crowd parted as she went towards the door. She strode  
in a hurry.  
_____"Gally?" asked Bryce. Her right hand near the door handle, she stopped.   
"When you're done with Grossberg, could you come back and...hang out for a   
while? Well, because..." He was temporarily at a loss for words.   
_____She shook her dark-haired head. "I may not return from the fight. If   
the p-type cyborgs could amass and defeat me once, they may be able to defeat  
me again." Then she opened the door and went into the hall.  
_____The students and instructors hesitated, then quickly followed the fast-  
walking cyborg-girl into the hall. Though they followed her, they kept their   
distance. Gally continued until she found the stairs and she stepped up them.   
Up and at the carpeted first floor, she followed signs to get out and out of   
the double glass doors...   
...  
_____It was night-time here in the city, everything outside lit by florescent   
lamps that shone down on the streets and lit the buildings' exteriors. Bryce   
and the people of this institute followed Gally to the front steps, watched   
her go down and over to the street.   
_____Over there... Parked on this side of the street, several vehicles awaited   
her, along with at least nine Metro Cops--standing around and waiting. They   
clapped and cheered when they saw that the cyborg-girl was repaired and well.   
That, and one of the Metro Cops jogged over to one of several vehicles here.  
An expensive vehicle.   
_____One of the waiting vehicles was a long blue limousine. Someone especially  
important must be inside it because there were several Metro Cops standing around.  
It was this vehicle that the jogging Metro Cop approached--to open the rear  
door.  
_____Amidst cheers for the cyborg-girl, the Metro Cop took off his helmet and   
put it in one hand, opening one of the rear limousine doors. There he stood,   
waiting for Gally to get in.   
_____Feeling overwhelmed with attention, Gally went over to the vehicle. It   
was dimly lit inside. And there, she again met Chief Thunderhorse--who had   
been waiting for her until now.  
...  
_____In this limousine, she sat in a wide leather seat, feeling small. The   
passenger compartment of this long car was like a small living room--beige   
carpeting and long leather seats. A light shone from a small chandelier   
attached to the limousine's low ceiling. The door closed to the city night,   
and the police chief looked at the cyborg-girl.   
_____Gally returned the stare put on her. Police Chief Thunderhorse was dressed   
more businesslike than usual--a dark blue suit and tie to go with his pressed   
pants and white shirt--dark shiny shoes matching his dark tie.   
_____He gave a nod to her, then pressed a button. This signaled the driver.   
And this vehicle began to move through the night streets.  
_____"Well, then!" began Chief Thunderhorse, his square-jawed face regarding   
the cyborg-girl seated across from himself. "We are going to the Network 66   
building. Do you know what that means?"  
_____"It means, you have discovered the corporation responsible for the attacks,"  
she began. "And it means that there is no other alternative but direct   
physical confrontation."  
_____Chief Thunderhorse surprised Gally by laughing! "Ha ha ha...! Hmm...   
No, child, there are always alternatives to fighting. There are always   
alternatives. But, at times, etiquette requires that we choose particular   
choices." He leaned forward and smiled. "At this time, etiquette requires   
that we move to punish the criminals in the most shameful and public way   
possible. This city shall be kept safe."  
_____After that was said, there was but the low sound of this limousine moving  
through the downtown city streets. Gally had nothing to say immediately. She  
Looked to her right, looked through this tinted window to see outside. Quiet   
and troubled downtown streets, no one was out there. Nobody wanted to be   
outside tonight.  
_____Chief Thunderhorse's question interrupted Gally's thoughts. "Gally, do   
you believe you could ever say 'No' to a fight? Even if it were to be your   
last?" A pause of silence. "Will you ever know peace?"  
_____"WHAT?" went Gally, quickly turning her head to look at the police chief.   
Her voice had almost been a shout. Thunderhorse gave a slight smile, unshaken   
by the exclamation.  
_____Suddenly embarrassed, Gally lowered her voice and bowed her head slightly.   
"I give an apology for the outburst, Chief Thunderhorse. However, I cannot   
apologize for the sentiment behind it. Peace is but a distant ideal, and   
ideals are not all compatible with reality. The eternal halls of human   
history are a testament that." She then leaned forward in a way similar to   
Chief Thunderhorse. "Let me put a similar question to you. Will YOU ever   
see peace in this city?"   
_____"I may not," answered Chief Thunderhorse. "I may become impatient with   
these silly mortals and leave them to do what they will to each other. After   
several centuries, a being of my stature can only tolerate so much."   
_____"Centuries?" asked Gally, slightly confused. She looked at Police Chief   
Thunderhorse, wondering about what he just said. The man was either insane  
or had somehow come across medical nanotechnology--giving him immortality.   
But because this city did not even have cyborg technology until Dr. Nova came   
along, insanity must be the answer.  
_____"No, I am not insane--at least, not yet," said Chief Thunderhorse, answering  
Gally's thoughts. "Just midway through patience, is all. Not even the gods  
have infinite patience."  
_____Gally looked into Chief Thunderhorse's dark eyes. She blinked... Something   
was not right. She could feel that something was happening. Something   
flashed in those eyes, something disturing. Gally then felt the air in this   
limousine become charged with static electricity--felt the static electricity   
through the hundreds of pressure-sensors embedded in the armor of her body.   
_____Then she FELT Chief Thunderhorse's stare entering her mind, going into   
her. A stare that came inside and filled her. But it did not feel invasive.   
Not at all. It was an extremely healing feeling. It almost felt... NO!  
_____She forced herself to look away, averting her face and eyes. If the   
flesh of her face was real, her cheeks would have heated with embarrassment.   
She felt warmth and comfort, like a hug, but many millions of times more   
comforting. She never felt so much...love before. It was a relief when the   
static current in the air went away, and things became normal again.   
_____But this was...impossible... With just a stare, Gally felt a world of   
caring. She denied that so much positive feeling could even exist in the   
world. All that she ever knew, all the darkness and misery, it seemed to   
temporarily vanish in the hold of Thunderhorse's stare. Almost gasping, Gally   
asked, "What are you?"   
_____"I will say this much," said Chief Thunderhorse, his voice seeming to be  
as calm as eternity. "I could easily bring this foolishness to an end, all of   
it. I could end the lives of Mr. Grossberg and Dr. Nova with but a simple   
command. All of my kind can do so. I... No, we could also do much more!   
But I have my reasons for allowing all of this to pass."   
_____Still feeling somewhat flushed, she tried a few more words. But, she   
found that her voice would not work. Moving her fingers to the collar of her  
bodysuit, she could just look at Police Chief Thunderhorse. He was not just   
a man. Chief Thunderhorse was...something else...  
_____He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. There was a rushing   
sound of wind. Gally felt a rush of slight dizziness, and she saw that there   
was darkness outside the limousine windows. Deep darkness. As if this vehicle   
was suddenly moving through a void.   
_____And suddenly...things outside the limousine returned to normal. This   
limousine stopped, and there were florescent streetlights out there--along   
with flashing lights atop the parked cars of Metro Cops.   
_____"Oh, would you look at that!" said Chief Thunderhorse. "I do believe   
that we have--quite suddenly--arrived at our location!" He winked. "Don't   
leave everyone waiting now!"  
_____The limousine door at the right side opened. And out there was the wide   
front entranceway to the Network 66 building, with Metro Cop cars parked all   
around here. There were murmurs of radio communication out there among the cars,   
along with sounds of car engines idling. Gally staggered out of the limousine,   
her mind spinning with all that she found out about Chief Thunderhorse.  
...  
_____The series of events that followed had a jarring and unsettling rhythm--a  
too-fast rhythm. First, Gally got out of the limousine to get in among the   
police and their vehicles parked outside the entrance to the huge Network 66   
building. Many Metro Cops were here, ready for battle. Some of them turned   
to look.... And they all cheered! THE CYBORG-GIRL IS HERE! YEAH, YEAH!   
WE'LL WIN! GROSSBERG CAN'T HAVE OUR CITY! Then the fighting began.   
_____A horde of those metal-bodied bastards came RUSHING out of the Network 66   
building. A wave of iron monsters, they came running out on their bare metal   
feet--clawed metal hands out and ready... And they all had smiles on their   
rubber faces.  
_____Of course, the dozens of Metro Cops here opened fire! As Gally ran to   
duck behind a vehicle, she saw and heard dozens and dozens of submachine guns   
open fire--weapons loaded with ferro-cerramic rounds. All of those weapons   
cracking at once made for a sound not unlike a massive and unnatural electrical   
storm that echoed to the dark sky above.   
_____For the Metro Cops, this was their night...for justice. For too many   
weeks, those cyborg freaks have done TOO MUCH. Hiding in vans, crouching in   
the sewers, ducking in abandoned buildings, those p-type cyborgs did too much.   
Too many citizens and Metro Cops were killed by those things. Now, it was an   
outright battle, and the p-type cyborgs were going to be destroyed! Destroyed   
to the last! With the Battle Angel on their side, the Metro Cops felt that   
they would surely win this night.  
_____And the thunderously loud gunfire continued. When a Metro Cop's gun ran   
out of ammo, the gun was simply reloaded. Plenty of ammo in the cars. Every   
car here had hundreds of clips of the special anti-cyborg ammunition. Extra  
guns, too. If a weapon jammed, there was always another. The Metro Cops were   
extra well-equipped tonight because of extra revenues from corporations. The   
result was a steady onslaught of deadly gunfire that tore through the night   
air.   
_____At first, it seemed as if the destruction would be all night. Waves of   
those p-type cyborgs kept coming out--to be blasted to metal pieces by Metro  
Cop gunfire. Their skeletal metal bodies kept piling up, sparking and twitching--  
that darkened blood of theirs flowing onto the night-darkened city street.   
_____Then their numbers thinned. No longer was there a massive rush of those  
metal monsters from the building. They were now just coming out in a trickle.  
A few at a time.  
_____And then they stopped coming out of the building completely. But the   
Metro Cops kept shooting, until.... "Cease fire!" shouted various police   
sergeants above the cracking sound of the shooting. The gunfired stopped.   
"Cease fire! Cease fire!" Enough Metro Cops heard it and stopped firing--  
guns smoking.  
_____Gally saw this as her chance! She leapt over a car, landing on her booted  
feet--a dark-clad and dark-haired shadow with a pale face. And she dashed   
towards the building, stepping over the fallen and broken bodies of the many  
p-type cyborgs.  
_____"Bravo Team! LET'S MOVE IN! FOLLOW THE BATTLE ANGEL!" shouted a muscle-bound and armor-clad police sergeant, climbing over a car hood with submachine gun in hand. Then, about twenty of the Metro Cops did the same--moving in. If the cyborg-girl was moving in, they'd help her.  
...  
_____Gally ran into the brightly lit wide lobby of the Network 66 building,  
stepping over broken glass on the vast marble floor. Like the Network 23   
building lobby, there were elevators at the far end of here. And, most likely,   
the important floors were near the top. She heard the booted feet of many   
Metro Cops coming up behind her...  
_____Someone's walkie-talkie radio crackled. Standing in here, that Metro Cop  
unhooked it from his belt. "Who the HELL is this?" he said. "Some kid prankster?   
Oh, it's YOU. Heh-heh... Sorry about that, guy. Hey, Battle Angel! It's for   
you!" This Metro Cop then walked over to give Gally the walkie-talkie.  
_____Battle Angel? The Metro Cop was actually referring to her. She took the  
proffered walkie-talkie. Bryce's voice came through the small speaker. "Hey   
Gally! My academy friends and I are watching you and the Metro Cops on the   
Network 66 security cameras; we've completely hacked the security systems in that building!   
You're doing quite well. However, you have sixty floors to get up. And you'll   
have about sixty problems waiting for you."   
_____"Then, there is trouble on all floors," said Gally into the walkie-talkie."  
And we have eliminated just one floor of resistance." Sixty floors full of   
p-type cyborgs, and unknown dangers. The task seemed daunting.   
_____Bryce's voice again came through the walkie-talkie speaker. "No, it's   
not going to be that bad, really... Like I've said, we've hacked the Network   
66 security systems--including the controls to the elevators and all the doors.  
Watch this..."   
_____D-D-DING! Several elevator chimes echoed throughout the lobby at once.   
Gally looked to the far end--saw that several elevator doors remained open.   
_____"Mr. Grossberg is in his 60th-floor office," came Bryce's voice through   
the walkie-talkie. "A quick ride, and you'll be up there in a jiffy!"   
_____Gally looked to some tall Metro Cops who stood close by, looking at her   
expectantly through helmets with tilted-up visors. Some of them had worried   
looks that seemed to say, Can you trust those elevators?  
_____"Come on, Gally! Move!" said Bryce. "We see Mr. Grossberg right in   
his sixtieth-floor office! He's sitting behind his desk, with a guy in a labcoat   
standing by. Some guy eating something out of a white bowl. That Dr. Nova   
guy. And about Mr. Grossberg... It's almost like he's waiting for you..." He   
paused, letting the implications sink in. "By the way, we're getting some   
STRANGE interference on some cameras too, so you'll probably want to be   
careful."  
____"Dr. Nova is there, so I will go!" proclaimed the cyborg-girl. She thrust  
the walkie-talkie into the gloved hands of a nearby Metro Cop, then strode   
towards the waiting elevators. She went into one of the elevators, and all of them   
closed.   
_____Some Metro Cops ran over to the elevators, also trying to use them. But  
it was no use... They were sealed. A short Metro Cop then came into the lobby--  
Police Corporal Kim. She saw the situation. "We'll take the stairs!" she said,   
checking her weapon as she walked across the lobby, towards one of the doors   
at the left side. Of course, more Metro Cops followed.  
...  
_____Gally rode this elevator... Quite an odd experience, actually. The   
elevator walls were shiny and well-polished, a black marble floor beneath her   
feet. Light music played on in here, one of any number of classical-sounding   
pieces. As she had over seventy floors to travel, the music became more than   
a bit annoying...  
_____DING! Soon, but not soon enough, the elevator came to the sixtieth floor.  
Gally came to a short and dimly lit hallway. The floor was made of red-streaked  
black marble, and the walls were paneled with wood. She walked through the   
short hall, her booted legs quiet, her solid fists clenched.  
_____There was a tall wooden door in her way, but not for long! THUNK! A   
quick kick from her right leg, and the door seemed to explode open. And she   
walked into Mr. Grossberg's office.  
_____A grand and vast office, lit by a chandelier... Like the hall, the floor   
was made of red-streaked black marble. Wood panels at the left and right, with   
a waist-high window at the end. In front of the window was a wooden desk.   
_____Mr. Grossberg! He was there, sitting behind the desk, with Dr. Nova   
standing at his left--eating flan. Mr. Grossberg looked perfectly sinister,   
dressed in black suit and black gloves--his slicked-back hair seeming darker   
than it was before.... "Well, well, well! Hello, Gally!" said that CEO.   
"So you're the little cyborg-girl everyone's ranting about! Hmmph, like the   
Kindly Old Man, your reputation is legendary."  
_____Gally stopped. Standing fifteen meters from the desk. Her pretty face  
took on a darkened look, large dark eyes glinting. She had four words to say.  
"I want Nova's head."  
_____Dr. Nova stopped chewing his beloved flan. Sweat broke out on his   
forehead, a very frightened look on his face. Suddenly, he temporarily lost   
his appetite...  
_____Mr. Grossberg's eyebrows went up. "DO YOU NOW! But, the trouble is...he's   
MINE. He's given me SO much power." He stood up, using a gloved hand to   
grip Dr. Nova by a shoulder--making the doctor wince.   
_____"Yes, this man has given me oh-so-much. He's given me a legion of   
modified cyborgs, a way to DOMINATE the city! Then, he's given me a vision.   
Yes, an amazing vision. It was vision enough to give me confidence in his   
cyborg technology. Confidence enough for me to trust him with my life."  
_____"Ha ha ha..." Bowl of flan in hand, Dr. Nova gave a nervous laugh. His   
eyes were on the cyborg-girl who had a look in her eyes. It was a look thirsty   
for pain-spilled blood. His blood.  
_____"You heard the girl, Nova. She WANTS your head, but she can't have it,"   
said the CEO. "Go wait in the corner and sit in the waiting chair. This   
shouldn't take long. Go on..." Then, giving a not-so-gentle push, he got   
Dr. Nova to move towards a seat in a distant corner of this grand office.   
"As for YOU...! Ha ha! I can kick your ass!" Then he took off his black   
gloves.  
_____First, Gally saw Mr. Grossberg had hands of metal--modified metal hands.   
In place of knuckles, there were diamond-spikes. But the metal did not end there.   
He rolled up his sleeves, and Gally saw that the arms were metal too. So, Mr.   
Grossberg must have had himself turned into a cyborg.  
_____"Dr. Nova has assured me that this body is strong against most any of   
your standard attacks," he said, flexing his metal forearms--his suit-covered   
chest making slight machine sounds. "And, I have taken a bit of hypnosis-based   
instruction in all styles of kickboxing, so I know how to use this body. I   
am now the most skilled fighter in the city--in the WORLD. In fact, I'll   
prove it by pummeling you. Then I'll use salvaged parts from your broken body   
to become even stronger. En guarde, cyber-bitch!" Then he leapt over his   
desk, starting the fight.   
...  
_____His first attack was fast and bold. There was a SWISH as his diamond-tipped   
left fist cut through the air, a lunging swing. He was moving and striking   
at the same time, his momentum into the blow. If Gally hadn't ducked, she   
would have surely lost her head.  
_____TH-THUNK! Still ducking, she struck Mr. Grossberg. Her two fists moved   
machine-fast when she struck. The blows cut against Mr. Grossberg's solid   
abdomen, cutting his business jacket and deeply scraping the metal beneath.  
_____But Mr. Grossberg angled himself as so Gally's blows only sheared off   
some metal, bouncing off. Then one of his fists had come around blur-fast,   
KNOCKING Gally away!  
_____Sliding back, Gally tried to land on her feet...but staggered and fell  
onto her back. There was a bit of damage, and she felt somewhat shaken. But   
it was not critical damage; the diamond-spiked knuckles didn't penetrate her   
exoskeletal armor. Lucky.   
_____She snapped to her feet, then RAN across the floor to get back at Mr.   
Grossberg. It was time for offense. And she leapt, her right foot lashing   
out...   
____The sound that followed SHOOK the entire office, an explosion of sound.   
It made the floor vibrate, and the office window vibrated. The chandelier   
exploded from the sound, sending crystal shards all over the marble floor.  
Even Dr. Nova had to cower to avoid being cut with the crystal.  
_____Mr. Grossberg stood there. He had a large, smoking boot-print on his   
solid chest where the business jacket had been burned away--revealing what   
was beneath. His chest had dozens of little metal spikes on it. And the   
spikes were capable of delivering a quick but massive plasma shock--like the  
intense plasma shock he delivered to Gally.  
_____Gally lie on her chest. She was stunned, her left leg twitching, the boot   
there melted. She shook her head, blinked, then used her right leg and both   
arms to try and get up. Too late...  
_____"Come here, BRAT!" growled Mr. Grossberg, reaching down with his left   
metal fist to grab the cyborg-girl by the neck. It was a painful hold! Gally  
struggled, trying to use her armored fingers to get the fingers off the   
vulnerable machinery of her throat.   
_____He had her as so she faced him, holding her to chest height. Then, his   
shoes crunching on the shattered chandelier crystal, he shook her once--like  
a much-hated metal-bodied toy. "Consider my position... Here I was, poised   
to OWN this city. The Metro Cops would've been beaten, and I would have been   
Sovereign! But no-o-o...! YOU had to fall into the picture. Of course, I'm   
glad that Dr. Nova's precious box brought him here, but I HATE how it brought   
YOU here as well." He TIGHTENED his one-handed grip.  
_____Gally gasped... She could hear slight cracking and snapping sounds as   
some delicate parts of her neck machinery bent and broke. Her metal-ringed   
throat was being bent shut. It was becoming a bit harder to breathe...   
Desprate, she then kicked Mr. Grossberg with her still-working right leg.  
_____With a GRUNT, Mr. Grossberg staggered, then THREW Gally clear across the  
vast office... THUNK! The cyborg-girl HIT a wood-paneled wall at the right   
side and bounced, landing on the floor. The wood paneling radiated cracks   
from where she hit.   
_____After that, the cyborg-girl couldn't get up. Was on her knees. Her head   
spun with dizziness, and she held a hand to her damaged throat. She tried to   
stand again...but couldn't. Mr. Grossberg would surely finish her off now.  
_____So, this was how it was to end. Despite all that she had done, it was   
all going to come to nothing. There was no one here to help her this time.   
Failing here, in the office of Mr. Grossberg, there would be no Edison Carter  
to find her and call friends. Now, she was surely going to die in failure.  
_____"Heh...heh... heh..." The Network 66 executive chuckled to himself as he   
stepped across the floor, shoes crunching on chandelier crystal shards. He   
walked slowly, sure of his position. Then his steps became faster. Too fast   
in fact.   
_____Whoops...! Maybe Mr. Grossberg should have taken some more time to get   
used to his metal body, the mass and balance of it. His right shoe slipped on   
crystal shards. It wasn't just a little slip, but a really big and sloppy slip   
of the foot.  
_____"What the Hell...?" he grunted, trying to recover his balance. Arms and  
leg moving, he tried to stop slipping. But that only worsened things. His   
shoes still slip-slided some more, sliding on shattered chandelier crystal that  
covered the black marble floor.   
_____Seeing Mr. Grossberg now was like watching something from slapstick   
comedy out of the old days. His arms and legs moved quite rapidly. The soles   
of his shoes found no purchase, and he kept slip-sliding away... And his   
slippery momentum carried him towards one side of the office, where one of his   
swirling arms shattered the window.   
_____There was now nothing between the inside of this office and the city night   
outside. And the wind came whistling in from outside. Outside, a high-up  
view of the city at night. This office is pretty far up...  
_____"Shit," grunted Mr. Grossberg, a fated look on his face. He knew what   
was going to happen next. Then he tumbled out of the window. He fell. It   
was sixty floors to the ground...  
...  
_____Whoosh...! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Mr. Grossberg was falling head-first.   
As he fell through the night sky, on the way to the ground, this CEO wasn't   
afraid. No, the opposite: He was downright ANGRY. Angry, because what just   
happened was just so unsurpassably fucked up. The night air whistled by his   
ears and whipped over him as he continued his far fall to the artificially lit   
streets below. He wasn't even going to smash into the plaza... No, he was   
falling right to the street. Streetlamps and police cars with lights flashing...  
_____For just a while, he was positioned to be on top of everyone in the city.  
Damn it, he was just so close. He would have frightened and beaten the city  
into submission, taking it ALL. No God-damned economic maneuvering would   
have been required; it was simple conquest. But that little metal-bodied bitch   
had to come along and really fuck his plans! He HATED being fucked.   
_____But it was over. It was over in the most stupid way possible. Falling   
to the street below, because he SLIPPED. Damn, he couldn't wait for all of   
this to be over with. He wanted to hurry up and hit the ground!   
_____He looked up...which was down because he was still falling head-first.  
Falling faster now. He could see Metro Cops and police cars looking up, down   
there on the street. Then he spread his arms and gave a great bellowing laugh.  
If he was going to go out, he was going to go out with a bang!   
_____AAH, hah, hah, hah, hah...CRASH! He hit. It sounded like the end of the   
world. Then everything went into a twisted, sickening darkness....  
...  
_____When the body smashed into the street, all the Metro Cops out here flinched   
at once. First, they thought it was a bomb. But a bomb would have EXPLODED,   
you know? That thing didn't blow up.  
_____"What the HELL was that!" exclaimed one of the Metro Cops standing in the   
Network 66 plaza, turning to look to the street. His comrades turned to look,   
and he what the smashing was about. And he saw the mess.  
_____Metro Cops gathered around the place in the street just beyond the plaza,   
getting closer to the amazing sight. They've seen bodies after high falls,   
but they've NEVER seen a fallen body do THAT before. Normally, a body is   
smashed and like...MUTILATED after a high fall--really broken. But this was   
a freaky exception.  
_____This time, it was the STREET that was broken. The body in a business   
suit fell head-first INTO the hard asphalt, to the waist. And the legs were  
dangling outside... Overall, it looked as if the body had dived half-way INTO   
the pavement itself.   
_____"Looks like some kind of God-damned champion diver!" commented a Metro   
Cop. Others agreed. How the Hell could anybody do that?  
_____Then the legs began twitching, legs in dark slacks. "HOLY SHIT!" exclaimed   
somebody when the legs began sparking a bit. Some Metro Cops backed off, not   
knowing what the HELL to expect next. A shoe flew off and smacked big Officer   
Carolla in the head--the shoe bouncing off of his dark helmet.  
_____The response was instantaneous: NOBODY fuckin' hurls a shoe at Officer   
Carolla! Not even a corpse! That big Metro Cop ran up to the twitching body   
upturned in the street and opened fire--shooting downward and into the body.   
There was all sorts of noise and fury as the ferro-ceramic bullets tore into   
the corpse. Some of the bullets ricocheted back and thumped into his body   
armor, but he didn't care!  
_____"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" shouted somebody. Officer Carolla stopped firing, gun   
smoking... He looked at his handwork. The bullets had shredded the dead man's  
business clothes--going right into the body beneath... Well, would you look   
at that!   
_____No wonder the body went INTO the street. The body was metal! Beneath  
the expensive clothing, there was metal. Looks like another one of those   
cyborg-things that caused so much trouble.  
_____Another Metro Cop walked close to Officer Carolla. A female officer.  
"Hmmph," she went. "You wasted your ammo on just another p-type cyborg, one   
that was as good as dead anyway."   
_____Officer Carolla KICKED the ruined hips of the business-suited cyborg   
embedded in the street. Indeed, seemed like just another one of those p-type   
cyborgs--except that it wore a business suit. Pretty expensive suit, by the  
looks of things. "Yeah, I guess I did," he conceded. "The Battle Angel must've   
killed this one before throwing it out the window. With her around, any other  
cyborg freak is fuckin' doomed."  
...  
_____Back up in the sixtieth floor office, Gally struggled to stand. Her left  
leg was still shut down completely--total malfunction. Her abdomen felt hot   
and odd, but it was not too bad. The plasma shock did not damage her permanently.   
But there were slight grating sounds coming from her neck whenever she moved her   
head. Her head... The blow from hitting the wall made her a bit dazed.   
_____She sat up, managing to sit propped up against the wood-paneled wall she   
had been hurled against. And her attention was held to the scene unfolding  
before her in this vast and theater-sized office. A scene involving HIM.   
_____HE was here, the Kindly Old Man HIMSELF--sitting behind Mr. Grossberg's   
desk. And his wheezing was audible, above the sound of the wind blowing   
through the huge broken window. Stepping carefully on the floor, shoes crunching   
on yet more shattered crystal, Dr. Nova came close...to stand by damaged Gally.   
But he was sure to stand outside of her reach.  
_____"Bounty hunter, do you know who HE is?" said Dr. Nova, his voice quivering   
with fear. "Do you know HIS role in all of this? Over all of this? And do   
you KNOW what we are to HIM?"   
_____Her neck making slight grating noises, Gally turned her head to look up at   
Dr. Nova. She knew that, given her condition, Dr. Nova could easily escape by  
running away--with her only able to limp after him. So she sat there, glaring.  
_____Dr. Nova looked down at the damaged cyborg-girl. Said, "I have been   
studying THE box and all of its karmic properties. As its shape kept changing,  
it revealed yet more of its nature. This provided more data on its origins.  
Little did I know that my data also led to implications regarding HIM."  
_____As if in response to Dr. Nova's talk, the Kindly Old Man's wheezing became   
more audible. "Hah-h-h... Hah-h-h... Hah-h-h..." HE went, leaning back in   
that chair behind the desk. HE even lifted his slacks-covered legs to prop   
his feet up on the desk. All the while, HE did not look at Dr. Nova or Gally.  
_____The wheezing was an uncomfortable sound. Gally wondered if the Kindly   
Old Man had a kind of severe respiratory illness. The illness should have   
killed HIM by now.  
_____"How foolish it was of me to assume that the Kindly Old Man was merely an  
anomaly, an indirect result of using THE box to snag with the fabric of our   
reality," continued Dr. Nova, looking towards the being seated behind the   
desk over there. "But, instead, the opposite is true. The Kindly Old Man owns   
THE box. It belonged to HIM all along. And in truth, all of this city belongs   
to..." CRUNCH! "AR-R-RGH!" Giving a loud grunt of pain, Dr. Nova went down,   
his left shin bloody and shattered.  
down with her.   
_____He fell onto his back, whimpering. And he made no move to get up, to   
even look at his injury. Good thing, because that limb was bent in a way that   
no leg should be. Blood soaked the cloth beneath the knee.  
_____Still damaged, Gally was not have been able to stand. But she was able   
to put Dr. Nova in a similar position. As he talked, she had slid over and   
struck the scientist in the left leg--beneath the knee. Now he had to be   
_____A dark grin on her face, Gally then used her arms and right leg to get   
over to where Dr. Nova lie. She managed to get close enough to sit atop him,   
sitting on his hip--holding him still with her solid thighs. Yes, she was   
astride the crippled, whimpering scientist. Bounty or no bounty, she wanted   
to do this for a very long time.  
_____Her left hand went to his jaw--metal on flesh. She whispered something,  
because whispering was all she could do with her damaged throat. "You have...   
made for...so much...trouble. Trouble and toil." Dr. Nova muttered something  
about his broken leg, his lips moving. "But now comes...satisfaction. Slow...  
and...wonderful..."  
_____Atop a helpless Dr. Nova, Gally did not know where to begin. She wondered  
if she should start from the face? Maybe, tug off his nose? Or, pop his eyes  
like grapes? No, she wanted to see his eyes as she DID him. His pain-filled,   
frightened eyes, looking up at her.   
_____So she pinched his eyelids...and tore them off. They came off quite easily.  
Made slight wet tearing sounds. Dr. Nova continued to whimper.   
_____"Hah-h-h..." wheezed the Kindly Old Man, looking at what was happening  
over here. "Hah-h-h... Hah-h-h... Quite amusing for amusement. Is this   
revenge? Or is something else waiting?"  
_____The question instantly put Gally out of the mood! Angered, she could but   
give a harsh whisper. "Do...be...silent. He is...mine." In response, Dr. Nova's   
whimpering went up a notch.  
_____"Hah-h-h... Who is yours? Do you own anything here? What is yours   
when you sleep?" asked the Kindly Old Man. Then he looked to the desk, and   
THE box slowly faded into view. This time, THE box was brown.  
_____Gally was still atop the bloody-eyed Dr. Nova; she was not facing the   
Kindly Old Man at all. But she had the impression that something had just   
happened. Something very important.   
_____"HAH-H-H...! We own NOTHING when we sleep!" said the Kindly Old Man.   
"We just BORROW what there is. Nothing is ours forever!" Then he brought his   
feet off of the desk and sat forward, reaching for THE box. "Hah-h-h... As   
we DREAM!"  
_____Gally gasped. What did the Kindly Old Man mean by that? She had an idea   
as to what the Kindly Old Man was saying, but she did not fully understand.   
And there was something in the way he said it.  
_____Then THE box was opened--THE box. Darkness closed over everything here.   
Gally felt herself falling through that infinite blackness again. Maybe she  
should have let Dr. Nova finish what he was saying. Whatever the case, she   
would soon find out what this all meant. The truth behind everything. 


	11. The Last Dark Symphony

The Other Box: Chapter 11 (by Elliot Bowers)  
...  
The Last Dark Symphony   
...  
_____All of Delsea was colored by the warm sunset--deep reddish-orange light of  
the fading sunlight... In the residential areas, the houses seemed to change   
in color due to the low glow of this dying day. And the streets seemed darker,  
because the trees cast long shadows.   
_____And it was almost totally quiet here. The wind blew gently among the trees   
and along the quiet streets. There were no cars on the roads now to upset the  
quiet. No cars at all. Except for the occasional distant barking of a dog,   
things seemed at peace.  
_____At an edge of the residential area, there was the town's general hospital--  
a place surrounded by planted trees on its own smallish estate. There was a  
small upright sign at the head of the entrance road: DELSEA GENERAL HOSPITAL.   
But the sign wasn't visible now because so many of them were standing around...  
_____THEM, the black bile victims. And there were plenty of them. By now,   
almost all of the townspeople were afflicted with the dark disease. Their   
blood was changed, their minds began to rot, and they had become less than   
human. There was no cure found for the disease. This town was dying.   
...  
_____Up in the hospital itself, Dr. Nova was taking refuge in the hospital   
director's office--the third floor. It was not too lavish here--a filing   
cabinet in the corner, a desk in the middle, the floor covered with brown   
carpeting. The desk was in front of the window. The window, through which  
dim sunlight came through. Dr. Nova was peering out of this window now.  
_____He coulf FEEL fear in his gut. He could SEE them out there. He could   
HEAR the wind howling--how-w-wling across the window... Or was that the   
howling of the black bile victims as their brains rotted to nothing?   
_____Half of those things outside used to be doctors, nurses, and patients at  
this hospital, along with a healthy mix of other town inhabitants. Even from   
up here, Nova could see that a dark oily substance soaked the fronts of their   
clothes. But there were scenes like this all over Delsea--black bile victims  
shuffling around the street, becoming aggressive and violent to anyone   
unaffected.  
_____Squinting his eyes against the slanting light of the setting sun, he looked   
into the distance. There seemed to be plenty more of THEM coming, shuffling along  
the road. Soon, there would be an entire crowd of THEM outside, standing   
around, swaying slightly.   
_____But those undead things weren't the only thing to be afraid of! He KNEW   
that Gally would surely re-appeared in this town. And she would come for him.   
And she would see him in the window.   
_____An unsettling thought! He quickly turned away from the window and went   
over to the light switch by the office door. Flick! No use, the light was   
malfunctioning. Its flickering was more troubling than just a dimly lit room.  
So he tried to turn it off, but couldn't.  
_____He fiddled with the switch. Off, damn you! Flick-flick, flick-flick!   
No matter how often he tried, the flickering light would not turn off. If he  
had a screwdriver, he would most certainly have fixed the problem. That, or  
risk being electrocuted by the wiring.   
_____So he left the office, had to run down the hall to get past a dull-minded   
group of black-bile victims--lying stupefied on the floor. One of them lashed  
out with a hand to try and GRAB him, but fear made Dr. Nova swift! He managed  
to get by without being grabbed.  
_____Gally was coming for him, and he knew it! He had to hide! Maybe,   
somewhere in the basement levels was safe... Maybe, maybe not.   
...  
_____Elsewhere in town, Dr. Nova's fear became true... When Gally snapped   
back into consciousness, she had the most insane HEADACHE she'd ever had   
before--worse than the headache from the last transition! It felt as if her   
entire head was slowly being repeatedly THUMPED with the back of an old rusty   
axe. A pounding sensation in her head, a pain that really hurt! And she   
wondered why!   
_____She staggered about and fell to her knees, shaking... Gritting her teeth,   
clenching her fists. For now, nothing existed but her and this pain in her   
head. Why? WHY THIS PAIN?  
_____Maybe she was being punished? By WHOM? Who was causing her head to HURT  
SO MUCH? As a bounty hunter, Gally knew the pain of a damaged body. And she  
knew the pain of multiple damaged bodies; as a cyborg, she had changed bodies   
more than once. But this was pain that seemed to grip her brain! There was  
no escaping it. For just a moment, Gally considered killing her brain; killing  
herself just to make the pain stop.  
_____Then, ever so slowly, the pain began to lessen. It was fading from her  
head, like the remnants of a deep dark nightmare. Frightened that the PAIN   
could come back at any second, Gally remained huddled on the carpeted floor.  
But it was still fading, going away... Then it was gone.  
_____Her headache clearing, Gally opened her eyes and slowly stood. She first   
noticed her body had become synth-flesh again--dressed in a fresh pleated skirt   
and white blouse. Dark shoes were on her feet, to match her silken dark hair.  
_____She was in a dimly lit bedroom... No, wait--in this reality, this was her   
bedroom. She saw that dim, reddish-orange sunlight shone in from the window,   
casting the inside of the bedroom in gloom. And the dim light seemed to distort  
the way things looked. Her bed seemed larger and whiter in the gloom. Her   
dresser-drawer appeared to be a large shadow. Her bookshelf, right of the   
window, just seemed to be bigger. Sparsely furnished and chastely neat, this   
was Gally's room--altered by the light of sunset. Her room, even if this was   
not quite her reality.   
_____As for reality? Gally clenched her fists, feeling her fingertips pressing   
into her palms. Synthetic flesh over titanium bones... She could feel the   
hardness beneath her "skin." And, most certainly, she would see to it that   
Dr. Nova would feel it, too. He would feel the hardness of Gally's artificially   
fleshed hands before dying a prolonged and painful death. And, this time, there   
would be no damned interference. Gally would have her way with him.  
...  
_____When she was sure her headache would not come back, Gally left her room   
and went through the short upstairs hall, going down the stairs. Her lightly   
shod feet padded on the steps as she came down to the living room. It was just   
so quiet in this house, and so dark. Were it not for the dim sunlight from   
the dying day, Gally would have had to turn on some lights. But it was just   
so peacefully and dark it would seem like blasphemy to turn on anything.  
_____Standing in the living room, the window curtains opened, she could see   
outside. And...breathing... She heard breathing. It was low but desprate   
breathing from two people, as if they held their breath until now. Two people   
on the living room sofa, sitting still. Male and female, those were her   
"parents," sitting in the gloom.  
_____She walked up behind the couch. Were it not for their breathing, she   
would have thought they were dead--sitting as still as they did. They did not   
even acknowledge her presence at first. But then, her "mother" spoke, a   
weakened voice.   
_____"Please... Please don't do it," said Gally's adopted mother, almost in a   
whisper. "You just don't...understand. We don't really want...to...understand.  
Just don't, please..."  
_____Gally became slightly annoyed. Her false memories prompted her to show   
respect to her parents, but she only had so much tolerance for this. "What   
do you mean by that?" she asked, slightly flippant. It felt odd, talking so   
loudly while everything else was so dark, so quiet.  
_____This time, the "father" spoke. His voice was as weak as the mother's   
voice. "We know...what you want to do. We understand now." He was silent   
for a moment. "Just don't... Gally. For the sake of...everyone. Don't do   
it. If you...understood, you wouldn't do it."   
_____"Mother" added, "Don't kill HIM. Please...DON'T! No one...really   
wants...to die." The rest of what she was going to say was lost in slight   
sobs. The woman seemed too weak to even weep properly. Weeping in the gloom   
of the room.  
_____"Father" tried to raise his left hand to comfort "Mother." But he couldn't.  
His left arm came up half-way, then it dropped. The man was feeling too weak  
now. Then he gave a weak, wet-sounding cough. An unsettling one.  
_____Something is wrong here! Gally quickly stepped around the sofa to get a   
good look at the "parents." There was not much sunlight coming through the   
window--because it was sunset. But her enhanced eyesight allowed her to get   
a good look: night vision.   
_____Apparently, both of her adopted "parents" were sick--very, very sick.   
Something thick was dribbling from their noses, making dark wet patches on   
their clothes. "Mother's" hair was in dissarray, and her head was tilted   
downward. "Father" tried to look up, but his head just lolled--dark stuff   
dripping from his mouth.   
_____They had the black bile disease. They were both infected with the endemic   
that was darkening this town. But, they were long past the stage of the illness   
in which they were supposed to turn mindlessly violent and insanely strong.  
They were just the opposite now: very calm and very weak. And now they looked  
as if they were dying. Because they were.  
_____Gally closed her eyes to the sight, refusing to believe what she was seeing.   
These two people were NOT her parents! Though her childhood memories seemed   
long-gone, gone along with her original body, she KNEW that these two were not   
anything close to those who actually raised her. These two dying weaklings   
are false! NOT her parent! No, no, no...!   
_____"You are merely PRODUCTS of this reality!" she shouted, feeling a wave of   
deep sadness rush over her. Her young voice shattered the peace and quiet of  
this dark and quiet room. "You are NOTHING to me! Nothing...AT...ALL!" She   
then felt her own artificial lungs seize up. Sobs were coming. "Your deaths  
will...NOT shake...me! Do...you...understand?"  
_____Her "parents" said nothing. They just sat there. Maybe, they were shocked.   
Or maybe their brains were just too muddled and sickened for a response. Whatever   
the case, they had no answer for Gally. Just two people, dying on the couch.  
_____Gally turned quickly away, misery on her face. She did not want to see   
this! They were going to die, and there was nothing she could do to save them.  
So she dashed over to the front door, yanked it open. Nearly pulled tore it  
off its hinges with her artificial strength. And she RAN, speeding away from  
this house.  
...  
_____She ran leaning forward, legs moving inhumanly fast. That synthetic-bodied  
girl speed through the dimly lit residential streets--everything in the ruddy   
glow of the still-setting sun. That girl moved so fast that her shoulder-length   
dark hair fluttered madly, her skirt and blouse flapping. There was the rapid   
rhythm of her shoes pattering on the street and the sound of the wind blowing.   
_____Where was she going? She was not sure. Seemingly at random, she sped  
herself around turns--shoes slightly screeching on the asphalt. But she ran  
on. In her mind were memory flashes of her "parents" on the sofa, lit with  
the dying sunlight from the window... Noses dribbling with liquid darkness.  
Lips parted slightly as more of the stuff came down from their mouths.  
_____What were they trying to say? They said that she did not understand.   
Understand what? And they told her not to do it. Do what? What was it that  
she did not understand about all of this?   
_____If the synthetic flesh of her head had included tear ducts, she would   
have shed tears. But there were no tears. The wind would have blown her tears   
away, anyway. She could only sob as she ran on through the dim streets.   
Running, to wherever she was going... The wind seemed to howl in her ears.  
...  
_____Her seemingly random meandering eventually brought her to the border of   
this residential area, where she brought herself to a skidding halt. She had   
entered a semi-forrested enclave. A wide, three-story white structure was set   
in this area: Delsea General Hospital. At least in full daylight, the hospital  
would have appeared white. Now the dying light colored the building a dull   
red color, a contrast to the darkening sky above. But this area was not   
abandoned.  
_____Black bile victims. There were at least thirty-six of them, standing   
around with empty looks on their human faces. They looked human, but they   
were no longer really alive. The black bile disease did that to them.  
_____There was then a flickering light. Gally looked up and saw that one of   
the hospital rooms was the source of the flickering. Someone was at the   
hospital, and she had a very good idea who. But a hoarde of black bile   
victims stood in her way and stood on the grass at the sides of the road.  
_____The hoarde would not keep her from her target. Gally began to stride   
along the entrance road that went towards the hospital itself, wind blowing   
her clothes and hair, her fists ready. Walking this short road took her   
straight to the crowd over there.  
_____Six of the black bile victims turned to look at the petite, dark-haired   
girl in blouse and skirt. Of course, their minds were too far gone to see her   
as a person; they just saw her as something to DESTROY. Anything that moved   
was alive and had to be killed! They ran at her, their mouths and noses oozing   
with dark liquid.  
...  
_____When that group of six ran at her, Gally stopped. She waited for them to  
come closer... Closer... Then she started the violence, enough of it to make   
anyone's stomach turn.   
_____She first did a very quick leap to the left, and all six of the onrushing   
black bile victims bumbled past her. Some of them tripping over each others'   
feet. Easily confused, they even began to attack each other, grabbing and   
hitting...even biting. It was outright savagery, the way they attacked each   
other. Sheer brutality, no skill at all.   
_____Gally quickly stepped over to where the six attacked one another. She   
wasted no time in dispatching them, simply struck holes in their bodies. For   
every kick, her foot went through a victim's abdomen--dark liquid gushing out   
and splashing on her skirt and legs. Her punches went through chests and   
heads, making for darkened blood gushing onto her blouse and face.  
_____Goaded by the violence and the gore, the rest of the black bile victims   
began to attack each other. Hands began tearing clothes and hair, fists   
bashing into faces and chests. It was a mad riot, insane and self-destructive   
mob action.   
_____Then a girl-sized figure ran in among those remaining black bile victims,   
doing much more damage than any of them could. Her fists and feet blasted   
through bodies as good as any high-caliber shotgun. Yet more black bile   
gushed and splashed from the struck bodies, soaking everything and anything.   
_____And she kept attacking. Punching and kicking, leaping and throwing. She   
was acting without thinking, just acting. Though everything else around here   
was so dark, her brain was alight with ecstasy! Sheer white pleasure as she   
moved and struck. Every hit a spasm of heightening joy! Anything on two legs   
was to be horribly mutilated. All the sound and fury, it was ultra-violence   
in extreme.  
_____When it was all over, Gally stood amidst pure gore--breathing heavily.   
She was soaked from head to toe in darkened blood. And the victims were now   
in PARTS. A headless torso here, scattered limbs there, the whole mess was   
all around. Of all the participants in the dark and wet madness, Gally alone   
stood here--soaked with darkened blood And she felt WONDERFUL...  
_____Now, for Dr. Nova. She turned to look to the double glass-and-metal doors   
of the hospital entrance. Wait, someone was in there--a white-clad figure.   
Flittering up and down, he seemed to be dancing. It was hard to tell from   
here. Curious, she walked over to the double doors and went in.  
...  
_____Inside the hospital, she was in a wide lobby--with a hard black-and-white  
checkered floor. Left and right were halls, a reception desk before the   
elevators and emergency stairs. Something was wrong with some of these   
interior hospital lights, because they flickered. Where was he?  
_____"Hah-h-h... Hah-h-h..." Gally looked to the right; the Kindly Old Man  
was standing close by--wheezing that way of his. "Hah-h-h... You want Nova?   
In the HOSPITAL! Follow me to FINISH IT ALL!" Then he dance-skipped over to   
the metal door that led to the emergency stairs. But he didn't open the door.   
_____He just danced right through it. This didn't shock Gally at all; she had   
already been through too much to be disturbed by anything that happened here.   
She went over to that metal door, which was frosted cold where the Kindly Old   
Man walked through it.   
_____After opening this door, she went into the stairwell. A small sign   
indicated that the basement was below. And the sound of the Kindly Old Man's   
wheezing came from down there--echoing against the walls, when the florescent   
lights flickered. She went down, her dark shoes clicking on the solid stairs.   
"Hah-h-h... Hah-h-h..." The Kindly Old Man's wheezing was still audible,   
leading her on.  
_____This brought her to a dimly lit basement hallway, lights malfunctioning  
here. In the unstable lighting, she could see the Kindly Old Man standing by   
a door. Standing straight-backed, he had an extremely serious look on his   
face--right arm pointed at one door. An odd and misplaced breeze blew through   
this hall.   
_____Gally walked, going over to where the Kindly Old Man stood waiting, his  
right hand pointing to THAT door--a door made of wood. Then he skipped on  
through the door. And soon, she was over here as well...   
_____Hmmph, the wooden door wouldn't open. She couldn't walk through doors like   
the Kindly Old Man, but she had no problem in opening it. Her synth-flesh body   
was not titanium-plated, but it was still quite strong. Her left foot lashed  
out at the door handle.   
...  
_____THUMP-P-P! Dr. Nova was ducking behind a lab table, clutched his last bowl   
of flan. He heard this laboratory's wooden door being violated. He KNEW that   
she was finally here to do him. He took a spoonful of flan to calm his nervous   
stomach.  
_____Too bad he wouldn't live, because he now understood what was happening.   
In the last hurried hour before Gally came, Dr. Nova had enough time to figure  
out the last cosmological equations needed to analyze everything: THE box,   
the Kindly Old Man, and how things were linked to Gally and himself. Everything   
was connected. Everyone was connected as well. He was especially connected to   
the Kindly Old Man. And these were not just intersections of karma.  
_____Karma, with connections of intersections. Intersecting to connect, the   
dialect will reflect what will be perfect. Genoflection on perfection. The  
directions need recollections. These are recollections. Ha ha ha...!   
_____"Ha ha ha... Whoop!" Dr. Nova ducked his head and took a spoonful of   
flan to try and keep his own mouth quiet. He didn't want Gally to hear him.   
That, though she probably already did.  
_____But it all made perfect sense, if one understood. And when he was killed,   
it was all going to come to a full end. The end of everything. Well, not   
that it mattered too much, because THIS world was dying. Everything was doomed.   
_____"Hee hee hee...!" In trying to suppress his laugh, a giggle came out   
this time. He just couldn't stop it! The last of his sanity was burned away by   
the combination of fear and intense understanding. Giggles and chortles spilled  
endlessly.  
_____And if that wasn't enough to have driven him insane, then the sight of   
Gally now would have surely done so. She stepped around the lab table and stood.   
From her participation in previous ultraviolence, she was soaked with darkened  
blood. Her hair and clothes clung to her synthetic-flesh body, dripping with   
still-wet blood. The smile on her face wasn't pleasant.  
_____"Hee hee hee, hee hee hee...!" Dr. Nova giggled with insanity, even as   
Gally took hold of him. She GRIPPED him by the collar and by the crotch as   
she LIFTED him above her head--a person much bigger and taller than herself.   
Dr. Nova dropped his last bowl of flan--the delicious stuff falling to the   
floor and splattering all over.   
_____Then Gally dropped Nova...onto her right knee! His back BROKE with an  
awful meaty sound. Then a prolonged sound came from his open mouth. It was   
a surprisingly familiar sound, too--a sound Gally had heard many times before.   
...  
_____Outside the hospital, everything suddenly faded into real darkness. As  
if by magic, everything seemed to vanish. A pure shadow washed over the entire  
town, sinking everything into a black deeper than a moonless night without stars.   
No houses, no buildings, not even streetlights. There seemed to be nothing at   
all.  
_____Because, it really was the end of everything here. It was almost a   
perfect quiet most everywhere. Blackness and quiet, with light gone away. It   
would have been perfect quiet were it not for the sound of the breeze. The   
breeze blew through this darkness.   
...  
_____In this single hospital room, this medical laboratory, Gally stood over a   
now-broken Dr. Nova--his dying bent in a grotesque way. Her breathing was hard   
and excited as Dr. Nova's wheezing breaths were dying away. Dying... The man   
was dying now.   
_____Everything began changing... The walls and floor faded into another tone   
and color, changing from bright cleanliness to rough-and-gritty dark. All   
around, the tiled walls mutated into concrete walls, with old gray paint   
peeling off. And the smooth floor changed into a wooden floor, made of planks.   
The ceiling changed as well, becoming dark-painted. This place was turning   
into the dilapidated room: the dark realm of the Kindly Old Man.   
_____Gally staggered backwards as things continued to change. The hospital   
lab tables disappeared. All of the paraphenalia in this room faded away, in   
fact. But one thing appeared in place of everything ele: a rusty metal   
bedframe. A bed-frame to which Dr. Nova's dying self was tied, with rusty   
barbed wire. But wait, Dr. Nova had become someone else.  
_____Then Gally's own body reverted to its own metal type again. Her neat   
shoes and dark socks turned into knee-length boots. Her skirt and blouse changed  
into a bodysuit. And her deceptively realistic synth-flesh body became metal   
again--the feminine curves of her body taking on the hardness of alloy.  
_____And she felt a headache about to come on. "I... I do not understand..."   
she said, her voice almost pleading. At this point, everything was too far   
gone for her to comprehend. Her ultimate goal was to kill Dr. Nova and claim   
victory. In sheer agitation and confusion at this all, she tilted back her   
head and shouted! "I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS AT ALL!"  
_____The dying man bound to the bedframe gave a hoarse answer. Now, Gally   
wasn't sure who it was--Nova or someone familiar. But she listened to what he   
had to say.   
_____"There is no NEED to understand nightmares Gally. They...just...happen!"   
He gave a gasping wheeze. "You can't stop...what's happening!" Cough, COUGH!   
He sounded like the Kindly Old Man, but seemed to be Dr. Nova. Or, was he ever  
really Dr. Nova at all?   
______She didn't comprehend this... "But I so WANT to understand!" she   
exclaimed. She knelt by the rusty bedframe, putting her solid hands on the   
edge of the contraption. "If YOU comprehend this situation, then TELL ALL.   
Or I will make your passing more painful than it already is."  
_____"Hah, hah, hah-h-h...." went the man strapped to this bedframe. The barbed   
wire bit deeper into the flesh of his wrists, arms and legs, blood flowing.   
"Go on!" He coughed a few times, then continued. "Finish me off! It's what   
I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR! Argh...! Ahem! Ack, ack, ack..." The rest of what he   
said was lost in chest-heaving spasms. Red blood and spittle erupted from his   
mouth. His eyes seemed to swim with pain.  
_____Gally heard a door open--the right-side door of this room. Everything   
in here was briefly brightly lit from the light beyond the door. Then the   
door shut, setting everything in gloom again. Then Gally heard the rhythmic  
sound of hard-shod foosteps--calm and confident steps.  
_____Recognizing the newcomer, Gally stood. "Chief Thunderhorse! How is it   
that you came here?" she asked. "This is a place beyond the city, beyond your   
reality! Did the Kindly Old Man bring you here as well?"  
_____Chief Thunderhorse was dressed more conservatively than normal. His dark   
clothes seemed darker in this dimly lit place, the cut of his business jacket   
and slacks seeming more square on his powerful-looking physique. Beneath the  
jacket, he wore a black tie with a white shirt. He stood in front of Gally   
and the dying person tied to the rusty bed frame.   
_____"How did I come here?" he asked, rhetorically. "I walked, of course! Ha   
ha hah... Ahem. As for the Kindly Old Man, he did not bring me. I chose to  
come here myself--just to calm you for the exit transition. The transition   
away from the end of this universe, Gally."   
_____Gally looked discombobulated. What Chief Thunderhorse was telling her   
now was unbelievable, impossible! She mortally injured a man. It is not as   
if she killed a diety! Or, did she...?   
_____"That's right, little cyborg-girl," said Chief Thunderhorse, perfectly   
able to read Gally's thoughts. "A god is dying! Now, a universe is dying   
away as well! No more troubles in the namelesss city! No more crime and   
poverty in the Fringes, no more ritzy downtown streets, no more networks...   
No more town of Delsea, either! Edison, 'Fonzie,' Theora, Bryce, even Max   
Headroom! Everyone else is...gone. That is, except for you. You, you are  
leaving this place.  
_____Hearing this, Gally looked around. She walked away from Chief Thunderhorse  
and the man tied to the rusty bedframe. She touched one of the four walls   
here... Gray paint flecks came off from the touch of her solid hands. The   
concrete beneath the paint was crumbling a bit as well. She believed that if   
she just tapped hard enough, any of the concrete walls would easily give away.   
_____She recalled what was once said to her. She remembered sitting on the   
steps of the 1st Precint, and someone tapped the concrete. They declared that  
reality was solid enough for them. Now, parts of it wasn't solid. Now reality  
was crumbling.  
_____"It is all dying," she said. She turned away from the chipped wall,   
strode quickly back over to Chief Thunderhorse and the man on the rusty   
bedframe. "Tell me!" she said, almost pleadingly. "What will become of us!   
When the walls fall and the final darkness closes over, what will be the end   
result? An empty end to existence?"   
_____Chief Thunderhorse laughed a bit before answering. "Ha ha ha... Ahem!  
Didn't you hear me? That person dying on the bed is A god, not THE god. If   
you think about it, the so-called 'end' shouldn't really matter. You do not   
originally belong to this universe. If you have no memory of belonging   
elsewhere, then why should a return to another place be of any huge concern?"  
_____Gally turned from Chief Thunderhorse. She trembled with a deep-cutting   
sorrow. What was the fairness in this? What had she done to deserve this kind  
of end? "This is injustice!" she shouted, then she spun around--her left leg   
moving, lashing out against Chief Thunderhorse.  
_____But her foot cut empty air. Suddenly, her intended target reappeared   
behind her. "Sad, sad cyborg-girl! Change, transition, it is nothing to be   
feared. Merely, it is something to be accepted. You will not remain here!"  
_____"No more confusion for ME!" she shouted. And she turned again, coming   
around with her left elbow swinging--intended to cut open Chief Thunderhorse's   
abdomen. But, as before, he wasn't there. Annoyed, the cyborg-girl began   
throwing fast and deadly punches at where Thunderhorse stood last. Her face   
was distorted with misery.  
_____But it was no use. So Gally stopped punching. No use at all... She   
slowly lowered herself to the wooden floor--kneeling. This was going to be   
the end of her existence. Even if she was just a dream, wasn't an original   
being, she she still had a sense of self. Though everyone else winked out of   
existence, she was still alive! And she was going...back to where she came  
from, wherever it was.   
_____Chief Thunderhorse reappeared, standing in front of the kneeling cyborg-girl.   
He brushed some slight wrinkles out of his fine-cut dark clothing, then put his   
hands behind his back. "Where do the dreams go when a dreamer dies? I'm sure   
the Kindly Old Man told you something like that at some point. I can sense it   
in your memories. Truth be told, dreams may or may not die." He knelt close   
to Gally. "It is time to go"  
_____"Hmm?" went Gally, slowly looking up. "But... Where is there for me now?  
This is totality..."  
_____Chief Thunderhorse shook his head twice. He reached down to Gally,   
holding out his right hand. "Come with me."  
_____Curious and with a glimmer of hope, she brought up her own right hand.  
And she stood by his side. Then Chief Thunderhorse looked to the broken, dying   
man on the rusty metal bed--who stood up!  
_____He was no longer bound to the bed. His clothes glowed with white, the   
wrinkles gone from his face. He was smiling as he accepted Chief Thunderhorse's   
other hand.   
_____And so it was. The three of them walked towards the right side of the  
room as the walls began to show cracks. Darkness came filtering in through  
the cracks, but then the right-side door opened. White light filled the   
decrepit room, keeping the darkness from closing in on Chief Thunderhorse and  
those he had been leading. Then they went into the whiteness beyond the   
right-side door.  
...  
_____The Kindly Old Man lie in a hospital bed, a clean white one. But instead   
of wearing white slacks and white shirt, he was dressed in a simple hospital   
gown. There was a tube inserted into his wrist, and there was a vented   
oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. From which, he got oxygen.   
_____"Hah-h-h... Hah-h-h... Hah-h-h..." Though his breath sounded troubled,  
there was no worry: He has been wheezing for quite some time now. That was  
why he had an oxygen mask on; his dilapidated old body needed all the help it   
could get. Then, something began to happen.  
_____His wheezing breath, which had been so rhythmic before, began to become  
ragged. The rhythm and steadiness stuttered, losing its smoothness. Yet, he  
remained asleep. He was asleep all this time.  
_____He spoke. Though his voice was muffled by the oxygen mask, his words   
could be understood. "Wait for me..." Eyes still closed, he became agitated.   
"I'm coming, Gally! Thunderhorse...! HU-U-H-H-H...!" The Kindly Old Man   
gave a long, shuddering gasp, his body stiffening once.   
_____The ECG machine next to his bed gave a long, frightened "be-e-e-e..."   
sound. It was a sound heard in plenty of movies, the dramatic and simple   
indication that a hospital patient was dead.  
_____A tall, thin, red-haired nurse came running into this white hospital room   
as soon as she heard the sound--her white uniform as white as the room's walls.   
"Oh, DAMN!" she said. It was something she said out of agitation, not in   
mourning. A dying patient was a real fucking inconvenience for her!  
_____Now there she would have to go through the whole damned "help-save-the-patient"  
routine! She went straight over to the bed and set her pale hands together,  
placing them on the old man's writhered chest. She then began to rhythmically  
pump the chest, just for the token sake of following procedure.  
_____Then a female doctor came dashing in, a petite dark-haired woman in professional  
clothing and white coat. She was Japanese, though she was in this country for so   
long that she only had a trace of accent. "Do step aside," she said, "I will   
take to his CPR. You are to assist the forthcoming help."  
_____The nurse got out of the way. She looked on as that doctor, Dr. Yuko   
Morita, did a more complex form of cardiopulminary resucitation. The nurse was  
thinking, What the fuck? He's been in a coma for the past six weeks. The   
geezer was as good as gone.   
_____Another doctor and a second nurse came on in. One of them told the red-  
haired nurse what to do while they went to work in trying to save the old man.   
They applied electrical shocks to his chest. They tried injecting complicated  
stimulants straight into his heart. There were all sorts of curt words and   
hurried movements as they tried and tried and TRIED... Then there was just   
Dr. Morita at work, trying to save the patient.   
_____Dr. Morita did not want to give up. She kept at it, trying other on-hand  
stimulants and more electrical shocks. And she continued CPR. Then the other  
doctor put his big hands on her shoulders, almost pulling her away.  
_____"He's dead, Dr. Morita," said the other doctor. "You tried. We all did.  
But it's over. People die, and that's an inevitable fact of life." To the   
red-haired nurse, he said, "Call it."   
______"6:06 p.m." said the red-haired nurse, getting the clipboard and chart   
from the wall to write down the time of the Old Man's death. "Yeah, he's   
finally dead. Too bad." The nurse said that, but there was no real sympathy   
in her voice.  
_____"Ooh-h-h, you..." went Dr. Morita, closing her hands, forming fists.   
She eyed the red-haired nurse. She wanted to say SO MUCH to that red-haired   
girl! But this was not the time. Because she, Dr. Morita, felt that she had   
failed. A doctor's job was to save lives.  
_____The second doctor and the red-haired nurse left the room, leaving the   
other nurse in here to start preliminary cleanup work. They gently closed the  
door behind them. No use in keeping the door open now; there was no hurry.   
_____Now Dr. Morita looked at what was here.... She looked at what remained   
after the Old Man's death. The remaining nurse seemed to do the same.   
_____The Old Man was HER patient. Dr. Morita truly cared for his well-being.  
As he could not be too physically active anymore, he once spend some time watching   
the old shows being replayed on hospital televisions. When he was feeling better  
some days, he would read comic books. In addition to checking his physical   
health, Dr. Morita got to know the old man by having conversations with him.  
_____When she found out that the old man could read Japanese, though not speak   
the language too well, she loaned him some extra graphic novels her little  
brother bought her: GUNNM graphic novels, straight from Japan. Her little   
brother really liked GUNNM and tried to get her to like them as well, by giving  
some extras. Now the big comics were kept in a hand-crafted wooden box atop a   
table, next to the old man's bed.  
_____Indeed, in the weeks before he fell into his latest coma, that was what the   
Old Man read. He read them like a man posessed by some kind of oni, seeming to   
stretch the limits of his already frail health as he devoured the comics with   
his old eyes.  
_____Dr. Morita herself did not fully understand this love of GUNNM. Her   
little brother and all of his friends seemed to like them. The old man had   
been hooked as well... He loved them to the last of his own days. He said  
the GUNNM novels were good for "happy days," whatever he meant by that.  
...  
_____The red-haired nurse opened the door wide enough to look in, then went   
away. Yes, Dr. Morita was still in there, fretting over that old dead fart!   
She then went back to waiting for some orderlies to bring the clean-up gear.  
After this was all over, the dead body would just be stuffed in a long wooden  
box and shoved underground. Dead and buried, where dead folks should be!   
_____The red-haired nurse hated old people, really. She became a nurse to   
help cute and young kids, not wrinkled-up old fogies who were as good as dead.   
Damn, that's what's wrong with this fucking hospital, thought the nurse. Too   
many God-damned codgers. When they were awake, they did nothing but eat and   
watch television. And when they slept, thought the nurse, most of those old   
people probably dream of porn... Probably dreamed of her.   
_____The nurse shuddered. She was young and attractive, and knew it. She   
liked it when guys her age stared at her--their eyes on her ass whenever she   
passed by. But when old people looked at her... DISGUISTING!  
_____But really, what DID that old fuddy-duddy dream about? Did he dream   
about her? Or, maybe, he dreamt about those foreign comics that the Japanese   
doctor brought him. He probably did, the crazy old coot. That, and his mind  
was probably all full of old television shows. So he dreamed away the last   
days of his life.   
_____Come to think about it, one of her ex-boyfriends was into those foreign   
comics and cartoons, too. He was a tan-skinned, dark-haired guy who looked   
like an athlete... The guy was a real science-fiction geek as well--a writer,  
in fact. She liked him in bed, but that was about it. She only put up with   
his obsessions with science fiction long enough to get fucked. So when the   
occasional bouts of sex started to get boring, she left him. Maybe one of these   
days, she'd marry a rich doctor... Like that Dr. Kaufmann.  
...  
_____Nine days later, in the morning, there was a funeral for the Old Man.   
Dr. Morita attended, along with just six of the Old Man's relatives. The petite  
woman wore a simple black skirt with a black blouse. In her hands was the box   
of graphic novels. As she stood with the Old Man's relatives, she considered   
the ironies here. This little funeral was in a big green graveyard--more like   
a grassy field with tombstones. And it was a bright morning. A little dark   
funeral during a big beautiful sunny morning. Taken out of context, the idea  
of a dead body in a long wooden box also seemed strange. They lowered it into   
the darkness. 


End file.
